The Glorious Tales of Gatewater High
by NickelDust
Summary: The cast for the school play is announced, Dahlia discovers a secret, and Miles reveals something to the world. A Cliché-ridden High School AU of epic proportions, with everything you love, hate and love to hate. P/E, and eventually many more.
1. Chapter 1

Right, lets get the boring stuff out the way! I'm Nickel. Not posted a fic for quite a while because of various real life things and a lack of motivation and stuff like that.

So obviously I come back with a high school AU. Yeah. I'm not going to go on about how this one is going to be _so different _from all the rest, because, uh, it's not. It's a High School AU. There's only so many different ways to write high school drama! But I hope you'll find it enjoyable enough, which is my main aim.

ALSO. The school system here is sort of a mixture of Scottish (names of classes, times for lunches and starting/finishing times) and vaguely made up (three years of school- Junior (16 year olds), Sophomore (17 year olds), Senior (18 year olds). This is because I myself am scottish, and cannot understand any system other than my own. Thankfully, PW's general ambiguity means it's fairly easy to wing these things, so just go with it, I guess? This also was because I had to fudge a lot of ages to get students in similar years with each other.

But still, have fun! :D

_Disclaimer: _None of these characters belong to me in any way, shape or form. Most of the situations they're in are tired, over-used clichés, but the lols that lead up to me deciding to write this belong entirely to my friends and I.

_Summary: _Gatewater High- 'We believe in Diversity'. Well if nothing else, at least the school was living up to it's motto.

________________________________________________________

Damon Gant was not the kind of man that most people would expect to be a head teacher. In a world of mousey old ladies and uptight old fools, he was a breath of fresh air. And oh, how he enjoyed being different. Teachers didn't expect it. Parents didn't expect it. And students? Well, they were especially fun to scare. Ruining the mornings of children always made him happy (which was probably why most people didn't think he was a head teacher, now that he thought about it). They soon got over it though- once they'd met some of the staff he'd hired, they always forgot to worry about him.

He prided himself on choosing 'unconventional' staff for all the positions within the school. It kept things interesting, and when you're spending all day teaching young adults about a bunch of things they probably don't want to learn, 'interesting' is very important.

He took a sip of coffee, relishing it as one did when they knew that this one cup would be fresher than any of the hundreds of others he ploughed through this term, he knew that this year would not be any less amusing than the last. New students! New minds to shape and educate. Which, after all, was what being a teacher was all about.

That, and terrorising his staff.

"Lana!" he called, spotting his first target for the day enter the staff room. She was Vice-Principal, good, and sane- probably the only one left in this building that was, if he was honest. She also had a good face. One that you could trust. Probably got him out of numerous lawsuits in the past, and he was no doubt she would do so again in the future.

She was also _very _serious.

"Good morning, Mr Gant," she said in a voice that sounded far too clipped, far too _depressed _ to belong to any of his staff members. He resolved to cheer her up, after all, he'd always been told he had a good sense of humour.

"O-ho, yes indeed! A _brilliant _morning!" He gave her a reassuring clap on the shoulder, ignoring how it nearly sent her flying into the back of Mr Armando. "I hope you're prepared for _educating!" _

"Of course, sir!" she replied, scuttling away from him (and his monstrously powerful back-slaps) as soon as he'd finished speaking. He smiled at her suddenly renewed vigour. That was much better.

"Fantastic!" He placed his now-empty coffee cup down on top of the water dispenser and clapped his hands together, effectively gaining the attention of all the teachers in the room. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I believe it is time to man your stations."

________________________________

There was something almost beautiful about him, Mia decided, gazing through the classroom door. Standing there at the window almost majestically, shivering delicately in the breeze coming from the open window. He'd grown over the holidays, too, just a little. No-one else would've noticed; but then again, no-one loved him quite as much as she did.

"Good Morning," she said cheerfully, entering the room and shrugging her coat onto the coat hook behind her desk, "catching some of the morning sunshine, are we?"

"Talking to plants again, Mia?" She glanced over her shoulder with a contemptuous look, knowing the source of the voice before she saw it. But, search she did, until she saw the familiar face of one Diego Armando peeking round the doorframe.

"His name is _Charley, _if you please," she replied brusquely, to cover up her embarrassment as best she could, "and what are you doing this early in the morning, spying on your fellow teachers?"

"Ha..! It's only spying if I don't announce my presence," he entered the room, familiar mug in one hand and his briefcase in the other, "Besides, you have my register."

"Hm," she smiled despite herself, reaching for the paperwork on her desk. Usually she'd be chasing Diego out the room, but since she hadn't seen him all summer, she figured she could tolerate him a little longer, "Talking to plants has been proven to be very good for them, Mr Armando."

"I'm sure anyone you deign to talk to is better off for it in the end, Ms Fey."

"Do I detect a hint of sarcasm?"

"Not at all," he grinned back, and took the register when she offered it to him, giving it a quick once over. "Edgeworth and Wright. Fantastic."

"Oh, they're not that bad,"

"I think you would feel differently if you had to see them first thing every morning," Diego grumbled, folding the register sheet and sliding it snugly into his breast pocket.

"I imagine they feel the same," Mia replied sweetly, glancing over her own register, "Klavier Gavin. Wasn't he in your German class last year?"

"Gavin...," he tilted his head sideways, a thoughtful look upon his face, "Oh, yes," he snorted and smirked, "Have fun with that one."

"I'm sure he'll be fine, Mr Armando. You should have more faith in your students, lest they realise how much you dislike them."

"I don't dislike _all _of them," he countered, sounding a little defensive, "Just some of them."

"And I imagine, once again, they feel the same! And I understand, if you're as insufferable with them as you are with me?"

"Ha...! Says the woman who talks to plants." He downed the last of his coffee, keeping the mug against his lips until he was sure it had drained fully.

"Just one plant" Mia said cheerfully, watching him turn and walk out the room to his own classroom, just across the corridor, "Have fun with Wright and Edgeworth!"

_______

As the clock struck 8:15, the first students began to enter the building. Damon Gant watched them from the front office, doing his best to be as imposing and scary as he had been last year. He'd procured a new suit for the occasion- dark orange and with creases sharp enough to cut paper- and he'd been practising his slow blink, so he was sure the students would be suitably cowed. It wouldn't do for them to enter thinking they were going to get an easy ride, after all. After a few moments, the trickle turned into a stream, and soon Gant found himself the blockage in an otherwise clear entrance way. Students parted a metre or so away from him and grouped again a metre or so behind, eager to crush past him and onwards to their classrooms. It amused and pleased him to see how fast they moved; clearly his wardrobe and overall demeanour were working. So caught up was he in being pleased, that he almost missed two of the biggest trouble makers go past him.

"Hold it!" he boomed, striding forward to intercept a rather dazed-looking senior student and his friend. They went by the names of Mr Phoenix Wright and Mr Miles Edgeworth, they were in their last year here at his fine educational establishment, and they were very well known for being trouble-makers. Well, Phoenix was. Edgeworth was rather more calm about it all, but none-the-less. An accomplice was an accomplice! They looked no different this morning than they had the last day of term. Phoenix was still wearing that silly hat of his, the navy blue one with the worn hole at the back, and clothes that could generally be described as shabby. Shabby jeans, wearing away at the knees, a shabby jumper, loose around the wrists and waist, and a shabby bag, slung low across his shoulders so it settled neatly at the base of his spine. He would have been an attractive young gentleman if he didn't look like he'd been sleeping in a hedge.

Mr Miles Edgeworth, on the other hand, was pristine. Pale, brownish-grey hair sat smoothly on his head, sprayed to sit over his right eye so as to appear, as Gant understood, "stylish". Black jeans were neatly arranged over black trainers, and his reddish-pink zip-up was arranged so the zip sat exactly in the centre of his chest. His bag, a smart messenger bag, hung down to his hips. Everything was neat, nothing was out of place.

"Morning Mr Gant!" Miles said nervously, reaching up to fiddle with his fringe, "We were just on our way to Tutor -"

"Yes, yes, Edgeworth!" Gant interrupted loudly, giving the pale boy one of his scary-friendly smiles, which served to shut the boy up, "I've just been talking to your father! Good grades last year, eh? Well, keep up the good work!"

"Thank you, er, very much."

Wright was still staring at the wall just behind Gant, looking, for want of a better expression, away with the fairies.

"Not so good for you, Wrighto! Have to work harder this year!"

"Hm? Sure, Mr G," Phoenix said slowly, scratching at his hair beneath his hat awkwardly and looking as bored as he always did, "Work hard. Sounds like a plan." Gant gave them both a slow smile and clapped them on the shoulder, satisfied when it sent them both stumbling through towards the main staircase. "Ol' Bastard," Phoenix muttered, as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Definitely creepy," Edgeworth agreed, shifting his bag onto the other shoulder, "Did you see the way he blinked at us?"

"Needs laid," was Phoenix's simple reply; indeed, it was his solution to most of his teachers apparent shortcomings. That, or they needed to 'chill'. And God knows, no-one knew chilling better than Phoenix Wright.

"Thanks Nick. Not really a mental image I wanted first thing in the morning." Phoenix cracked a grin, glancing at some of the other students and teachers as they climbed the stairs to the language department. Mr Armando was taking over from their old tutor teacher, it seemed. They'd met him before, of course, back when they'd thought taking Spanish would be a laugh.

"You seen Maya yet?" he asked Miles thoughtfully, rubbing his chin as they made their way down the hall.

"Nope, not yet. They're in my Dad's tutor group though, I heard him mention it at breakfast."

"We'll swing by English and have a look then," Phoenix decided, glancing at his watch briefly, "I'm sure Mr A won't mind if we're a few minutes late."

"Adrian?"

"Here!" Adrian Andrews stuck her hand in the air smartly until Ms Fey had turned back to her register, before clasping them together neatly in her lap. It was awfully rude, really, the way her class was acting this morning. Of course, she could appreciate they were just back from holiday, but _honestly_. Some people needed to hear what was happening in class, and in Adrian's mind it was only right that the rest of the class shut the hell up while those people tried to listen. It was just common courtesy, but she supposed she shouldn't have expected any better from high school students. A rowdy bunch, the lot of them. No sooner had she started grumping to herself about it than the girl to her right nudged her sharply in the ribs, causing her to wince.

"You are looking grumpy again, Adrian. We have only been back in the building 20 minutes."

"Everyone's being too noisy" she whispered in reply, eyeing Franziska's amused expression with distaste, "and ow, not so hard next time, kay?"

"Well, I tried calling your name, you foolishly ignored me, I reacted with violence."

"I-I noticed that, thanks. So did my ribs."

Franziska merely grinned, patting Adrian on the shoulder. It was her round about way of saying sorry, and so Adrian smiled too, pulling out her notepad and pen. If only the rest of the class knew the _polite _way to go about having conversations while the teacher was talking.

_I can't hear what she's saying over all the racket. Haven't people had the whole holidays to talk? _

_**You talk as if you are a teacher too. So serious, Adrian. **_

_Yes, well, we're nearly in our last year. We have to be serious about these things. _

_**I do not think everyone agrees with you; It doesn't look like Gavin thinks so. **_

Adrian glanced up at Klavier Gavin, who sat three rows ahead of her and was noisily recounting his summer holidays to anyone that would listen. Atop his perfectly styled blond spikes sat a pair of over-sized sunglasses, with dark rims to match the scarf he had loosely twirled around his neck. She was fairly sure that was a _piercing _she saw, peeking out just over the top of the scarf and twinkling under the sunshine. On the floor beside him sat his bag, which appeared to be more patches and badges than actual bag. Beside that she could see a guitar case, covered in stickers and names that had been scratched in place with a pin. She narrowed her eyes in distaste just as his name was called. Instead of a smart reply, of course he replied with a jaunty wave, a mere glance in Ms Fey's direction.

_Klavier has never counted, and will never count. I refuse to accept he passed the exams last year. _

_**Well, Daryan, then? He does not look like he is taking things seriously. **_

Daryan Crescend, one Klavier's little band buddies. The only difference between him and Klavier seemed to be the hairstyles. While Klavier's was sleek, shiny and spiky, Daryan's hair was a monstrosity of gel and willpower arranged into an elaborate quiff. She wasn't sure how it stayed looking so perfect, but she could honestly say she wasn't even faintly interested.

_Even worse than Klavier. _

_**Did not know that was possible. Want me to hit them?**_

__Adrian smiled warmly at her best friend. She knew Franziska meant it, too. Anyone that had ever bothered Adrian had found themselves on the business end of Franziska's hand really very quickly. But still, she could tell most of her irritation with Mr Gavin was probably do with things unrelated to his seriousness at this point in time. It would be unfair for Franziska to punish him merely for existing, although it was such a tempting idea.

_Best not. Wouldn't want to get a detention before you'd even made it to your first class._

Franziska shrugged her shoulders and gave Adrian a small smile, as if to say _Whatever you want._

"Franziska?"

"Here," she called out, idly sweeping her blue hair back into a low ponytail.

"Well class, welcome back," Ms Fey said dryly, popping her register into a folder and leaning back to sit on the edge of her desk, "Nice to see you're all as cheerful as- Misters Gavin and Crescend, sit up please- ever. Now, you'll have seen the new students already I'm sure, be nice to them please, and _behave yourselves. _If I hear of bad behaviour, well, I won't be pleased. Good morning."

The group trailed out the door slowly, joining the swell of students rushing too and fro past the front of the classrooms. Adrian and Franziska were last out, taking their time to pick up their folders and things- it didn't matter, since they were only going across the corridor to Mr Armando's German class. He probably wouldn't even have finished with his own tutor group yet.

"Adrian, a second please," Ms Fey called after her. Adrian looked at Franziska suspiciously. Surely Ms Fey hadn't thought _she _had been disrupting the class, and if she had, well she was going to set her straight. Arguments already formulating in her head, she turned around, sweet as pie.

"Yes?"

"Could you take this to Mr Armando, please," Ms Fey said politely, handing Adrian a large pile of paperwork and other things, "it appears he must have left it here earlier this morning. By accident."

That last bit sounded a little fake, Adrian thought, but she wasn't going to voice that. Not when Ms Fey's eyes were glinting like that.

"Of course." And quickly, she rushed away.

_________

The map, Apollo had decided, wasn't in English. That was the only reason he could think of as to why he couldn't understand it. He'd tried turning it around, holding it right up close to his nose, even spinning it back-to-front but still, the plans that were drawn on the piece of paper in his hand did not seem to correspond to the building in which he was currently standing.

In vain, he looked around for anything that appeared... landmark-y. A reception desk! A swimming pool! Even a student would have been useful! But no, he appeared to be in the Not-on-the-map department, floor infinity and something. As for students, he'd only seen one other so far, a very tall blond guy, with tight jeans and glasses that appeared to be more stylish than functional. And when he'd tried to ask _him _for directions, all he'd got was; "Not worth my time!" and a wave of weirdly feminine aftershave.

He'd decided maybe that guy wasn't the best person to ask. And that this school was full of weirdoes, but that assumption had been less fair.

With a sigh, he trudged towards a pair of double doors that he hoped led to salvation, and/or the maths corridor. Where he was meant to be at this point in time. The room number, R412, really wasn't helping much. There didn't appear to _be _a fourth floor, and unless the scrawled note from the receptionist- _REMEMBER TO PICK UP KIM FROM SCHOOL- _was some sort of code, he didn't think it was meant for him.

Trucy had found her first class easily, _of course_, spotting the Drama theatre within 5 seconds of leaving their tutor class. Truly a useless sister in these trying times.

The double doors, however, were much more useful. Behind them he could see a set of glorious stairs, leading hopefully to crowds and people and things that he'd expected to see more of in a school . Down he went to the floor below, and peered through the glass pane set halfway up the door. Well. He had found the people. Students were weaving to and fro along what appeared to be a _very _narrow corridor, narrowly missing each other as they worked their way to class. Being rather small and also kind of skinny, Apollo didn't think it looked very safe. But if he wanted to make it to Mr Grossberg's math class , he would have to brave the crowd. He took a tentative step out into the corridor and was almost immediately barrelled into the wall by a large, walking guitar case.

Well, that was a new one. Also, a painful one. Yes, he didn't think he'd ever made his shoulder truly aware of what pain was, but rest assured: it now knew! Thank you Mr Walking guitar case, for teaching me such useful information.

Luckily, the wall into which he had been so unceremoniously slammed was right next to an open door, and he managed to squeeze in through that before any other anthropomorphic musical instruments decided to attack him.

"Can I help you?" A bespectled gentleman was looking at him with an amused smile, glancing somewhat openly at Apollo's dishevelled appearance. And also possibly at the last remnants of his sanity dribbling out of his ears, but that one was less likely.

"Er, yes, sir. I'm looking for, uh, Mr Grossberg's maths class? I'm new." He added that last bit on the end as if the guy didn't know; couldn't tell by the way Apollo was currently glancing around like a nervous rabbit.

"Of course! Room R112, floor directly below this one, turn left and you'll see it."

_Success! _Apollo thanked the teacher profusely, trying to ignore the titters from the class that had begun to assemble. Before he could say anything embarrassing or potentially insulting (he _did _have quite a knack for that), he dashed out of the room and back down the staircase, happy that the corridors were now somewhat emptier. 50% less chance that he was going to die horribly! Finally, looming in the distance, Apollo saw the classroom Door. It was such a welcome sight, oh he felt he may have wept.

He imagined angels.

He imagined beautiful things.

He imagined not making a fool of himself.

Such a beautiful dream.

"Ahrm, good morning my boy!" Apollo surveyed his math's teacher warily. He was big man, with a small moustache that seemed to be somewhat alive considering the way it was... wiggling. But he appeared nice enough, and in a school full of possessed guitars and Very Tall Blond People, that was a welcome change.

_What kind of school have I somehow stumbled into, _he thought desperately, not noticing for a moment that Mr Grossberg was talking, presumably to him, and so he tuned back in. Hopefully he looked as if he'd been paying attention and not staring into space.

"....so you can sit up there, next to Mr Gavin!" Apollo followed Grossberg's finger all the way to the back of the classroom, to a mess of blondness and fabric and piercings and things that Apollo wasn't really sure if he'd _seen _a guy wear before. The creature glanced up at the sound of his name, smiled in a vacant sort of way in Apollo's direction, and then went back to the notebook it had open on it's desk. Well, at least he hadn't mimed killing him, which Apollo thought was a good thing! Not dying really was, despite all evidence to the contrary, top of his list of things to do today.

"Uh, okay. Great. Yes!" And off Apollo went, through the rows of really quite suspicious looking students until he came to the empty seat beside the boy he knew only as Mr Gavin.

"-Drama, darlings! It's really the best subject in this school- really, the most _fantastic _plays- and I am glad- _so glad- _you decided to join my magnificent department!" The stage seemed alive with his presence. The lights caught his hair and made it glow. From the audience pit, where the brand new class of nervous 16 year olds sat, he looked almost God-like.

If, you know, God had a dangerous fascination with the colour pink.

"I hope Mr Galactica isn't always this...um," Trucy shot a worried look to the girl next to her, who nodded firmly in response.

"I...I wonder if this is a joke?" She whispered back, fingering a light-brown pigtail nervously, "He's very... um... energetic." Trucy grinned at her choice of words. She'd met the girl only half an hour ago, and yet already she was growing to like her.

"Sensible choice of words there, Pearl."

"Well, I don't want to offend anyone."

Trucy shook her head a little and turned back to Mr Galactica, who didn't look like the kind of man you could easily offend. If you tried, he'd probably just decry how un-fabulous you were and then skip away, acting all the while as if nothing was wrong. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered which lucky class it was that got to have him as a tutor. He was now scanning his audience with shining eyes, as if they were a class of critics rather than willing (?) students there to learn. It really was quite, _quite _ frightening.

Pearl Fey, the girl to her right, seemed to agree with her whole heartedly. She was sitting perfectly calmly in the chair, but her nervous twitches were obvious for the word to see. Well, obvious for _Trucy _to see. The girl to Trucy's left, one Vera Misham, was far more obvious in her apprehension. Her eyes were wide in fear, and she was clutching the knees of her jeans tightly between her fingers as she followed Mr Galactica across the stage.

Most of the class appeared to be on her side.

"Right!" He said finally, stopping in the centre of the stage, "I need... someone... fabulous- yes, you, girl in the blue, up here please!" Trucy almost laughed, because, silly her, it appeared as if he was pointing in _her direction. _And no, he wouldn't do that, not on her first day. Would he?

She looked one way. No blue there.

She looked the other. Nope, there didn't appear to be any blue there either.

She glanced down at her t-shirt, and sighed to herself. Pale, powder-blue, to match her hair band. "Me, Mr Gala-"

"Yes, yes, yes, yes- you appear _fabulous_, and thus you must come on stage. _Quickly_, protégé, up on stage." Before her brain could work out what was going on, she had propelled herself up onto the stage, where Mr Galactica promptly wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "Right! This young lady- what is your name?"

"Trucy Justic-"

"-Trucy Justice! Fantastic! Yes, Trucy here is going to stand here- no _here_- thank you, for me, and, oh! You! Yes, boy in the white. No, not _you- _nowhere near fabulous enough, yes- Yes! You! Over here, now-"

This was going to be a long day.

There was an unforeseen hierarchy within Gatewater High, unknown to the teachers and adults. It ruled the students, who they could talk to, who they could be seen with, and to whom they could talk should they need the advice of a friendly older student.

Kristoph Gavin was not that friendly older student.

He had always been popular at the school, popular among everyone that he cared to mention, anyway. And now, he was top of the food chain. Student President. Headmaster Gant's favourite. Every award that it was possible for him to have, he had. Of course, he hadn't always gotten them the _legal_ way, but his ingenuity was to be praised!

Now he had to choose a successor, for it was his last year. And Kristoph didn't want someone... _uncouth _taking over. No, whomever he chose had to be able. Smart. Beautiful. The obvious choice would be his brother, in the year below. But Klavier, bless his little heart, was a bit of an idiot. A few sandwiches short of a picnic. Not the brightest crayon in the box.

Definitely not Head-of-school material, really. Besides, he was a band kid. Everyone knew they couldn't be trusted.

He had half a mind to choose Adrian, Klavier's old flame. She definitely ticked all the boxes, but was a little too... good for his tastes. She didn't seem like the type that would do what was necessary to hold onto the post. And, alas, her style left quite a bit lacking. He adjusted his glasses subconsciously and swept his hair over his shoulder, aware of the need for him to look pristine.

"Matt, what are the new students like?" he mused, glancing at his friend across the table.

"Whiney, mostly. Some of 'em have signed up for the football team, though, so Juan and I will know better then."

"Excellent," he smirked, "My brother's year are looking to be fairly lacking in the leadership department. If you see any likely candidates, link them to my MySpace." That was the easiest way for people to contact him; he was expanding his MySpace empire faster than he ever could expand his real one.

"Not your brother, then?" Juan asked, chewing on the end of a tube of pixie dust thoughtfully. Kristoph shook his head smartly, almost dislodging the slightly-too-big glasses he was wearing. He would have to take pictures with them on; the style seemed to be catching on, and he didn't want to be seen as merely a trend follower, but a trend_setter. _

The two boys nodded in unison, lapsing into silence as they usually did when Kristoph wasn't ordering them about. He seemed not to notice the lack of speaking and was instead relaxing in his chair, hands clasped firmly behind his head.

So there we have it: first ten pages all written. :D I _am _planning to continue this, obviously, so we'll see if I can stick to a once-a-week update schedule. This is of course barring disaster and college coursework, and if I get lots of free time, more chapters! So yeah. Review me, email me, message me, and I thank you for reading!

Lovelove


	2. Chapter 2

Ah, Chapter 2. :D Not done a multi-chaptered fic in a while, so excuse me if my update schedule goes haywire at any point. Like I said, expect updates every 4-7 days, maybe every 2 weeks if I have exams. Haha, but the best way to make you happier about waiting is to give ya nice big chapters, so I hope this fits the bill. Thank you for the reviews here and at Gyakuten_Saiban over on LJ, they make my friends and I very happy.

Speaking of friends, my friend **Cryptor Child**, who helped come up with many of the ideas for this fic, has started a companion fic, **Gatewater High: The Glorious Extras,**which she'll be updating with little side stories about everyone's favourite AU-verse Phoenix Wright characters. You can find it at: /s/4798444/1/Gatewater_High_The_Glorious_Extras (just copy and paste that after the main site URL) or under my favourite stories. Now, lets begin!

* * *

Lunchtime couldn't come fast enough for Mr Apollo Justice. After his frankly _harrowing _adventures that morning- with the maths and the walking musical instruments and- well. He didn't really want to think about it. Except he knew he would, later on, when he was trying to sleep. The bit about being unable to read maps was probably going to haunt him for a long time.

Then there was Klavier Gavin.

Apollo glanced sideways at the tall and really rather imposing figure walking beside him. He hadn't really expected there to be _talking _when he'd sat down next to the boy, let alone an _extended period of talking. _And not one that would lead to them walking next to each other after class.

He hadn't quite wrapped his brain around it yet. When he'd opened his textbook, Klavier had immediately started prodding him with questions, telling him all about Gatewater High and the exiting things he had to look forward to. If Apollo hadn't been somewhat shell-shocked, he probably would have wept. This school was very..._exuberant._

"So," Klavier said, breaking Apollo's ever-more apocalyptic stream of thought, "You're new." It wasn't really a question. More of a statement, as if Klavier was reaffirming this fact, just to make sure he hadn't simply been looking over Apollo's existence for the past year. Somehow Apollo got the impression that this was a boy who didn't like to be out of the loop.

"Um," Apollo replied intelligently, "Yes. We moved here over the summer."

"We?"

"Me. And, uh. My sister- she's in the year below- and our parents," Apollo watched as Klavier nodded, wrapping his scarf a little more neatly around his neck. His style confused him. Where he'd come from (A small private school on the outskirts of the city), boys didn't have piercings. Or wear checked scarves and oversized sunglasses. Or tight jeans.

"I see. Well, Herr Justice-", Apollo blinked. Had Klavier just said something about his hair ("Nice hair, Justice")? How did you respond to things like that? With another compliment? What could he say; _Uh, thanks. Your hair is nice too? _"-It is nice to meet you. Now, you come and meet my friends for lunch. Do you have friends yet?"

"Er," Apollo was still stuck on how to return compliments, "No. I mean, not here. Not yet. I mean, yes, that would be great. Thanks." Klavier laughed, shifting his guitar (that looked familiar...) to the other hand.

"You don't need to be nervous, you know."

_Yes I do, it keeps me sane. _"Haha! I'm not nervous. Just, you know. New!"

"In other words," Klavier said, looking at him over the top of his glasses, "Nervous." Apollo grimaced and nodded. He always had been pretty bad at hiding how he was feeling. Especially when those feelings were "oh God, oh God, kill me now, please I want my life to stop." He decided the best course of action was to subtly change the subject.

"Anyway! Is lunch here, er, nice then?"

"Sehr fantastisch!" Klavier exclaimed, waving over the crowds of students to someone else he knew as Apollo blinked. _Foreign words?! _"Pork and Beans today, I think. Very tasty. Unless you are vegetarian?"

"Er, no. Not vegetarian at all-"

"Ah, here we go!" Klavier said cheerfully, stopping suddenly enough that Apollo nearly continued walked into the guitar (again?). He peered round the blond, his guitar case, and his widespread arms. They were at a large lunch table, big enough for at least ten or twelve students to crowd round. Luckily for Apollo, it wasn't that full just now. Three girls sat just in front of him and towards the back, there were three other boys. They all looked curious, which was normal enough, Apollo guessed. As long as the curiosity didn't turn to burning hate, he could cope.

"Heeey, Klav!" One of the girls said round a mouthful of pork and beans, waving happily. Apollo stared beadily at her. She had on a purple summer dress over a paler, long-sleeved t-shirt, and over-sized accessories around her wrists and neck. Her black hair was down, except for two little braids at the front, tied with a purple ribbon that matched her dress. He took a surreptitious look under the table. Flip-flops. How very odd. Especially for September.

Well, he wasn't going to argue with potential friends. Especially not when they were attacking food like that.

"This is Maya; Maya, this is Apollo," Klavier said, pointing at summer dress-girl with his thumb, "He's new." The rest of the table looked more interested now. _They're going to kill me, they're plotting to kill me, _Apollo thought wildly, _that, or genuinely curious. _ "And this is Ema and Regina," he pointed at the last two girls, both of whom smiled in greeting. Apollo smiled back. The three of them were in his tutor class, so he had seen them this morning but never caught their names. Mostly because he'd spent a great majority of tutor class hiding behind his bag and map. "These guys are Daryan, Phoenix and Miles." Miles and Daryan both looked nice enough, but Phoenix seemed far more engrossed in his can of coke than anything else.

"You're new, Apollo?" Miles asked excitedly, patting the seat next to him in a way that said "I won't eat you, just sit _and let me talk to you right now_". Apollo had no choice but to do as he was told.

"Yes. Moved, er, this summer." He was getting used to repeating this sentence

"Well, it's nice to meet you. This is Phoenix," he pointed out the older-looking guy across the table again, and this time he looked up, surveying Apollo apathetically.

"'Sup, Apollo?"

"Er-"

"And I'm Miles! Do you have a MySpace?"

_What's a MySpace? "_Sure! Er. I mean, I think so."

"Poor kid, got sucked in by Edgeworth already," Apollo spun round to a face full of quiff and hair gel, "I'm Daryan Crescend. You into music?"

_No! Yes! I don't know? "_Uh-,"

"You should come see us practise, Klav and me. We're in a band. Best in the school." Apollo wondered how impressive that was, since, you know, the school was quite small and all. But he wasn't going to say that out loud. Not with Daryan sitting _right there _looking rather scary.

"Ja, a good band. The Gavviners! Come to band practise after school, we'll introduce you to other people. New friends for Herr Justice. "

_Oh dear Christ, please no more. _

_

* * *

_

Mia couldn't remember a morning that had ever been as torturous as the one she'd just lived through. Usually she enjoyed the early classes, just after she'd had her first tea of the day, when the classroom still smelt fresh and clean and not of teenager. But today had been exhausting. More than exhausting, actually. She could feel herself falling asleep even as she fished a slightly bashed lunch box from the bottom of her cupboard. Usually she'd eat downstairs. But today, not even the prospect of a good gossip with Lana could bring her to face the staff table.

It had all started so well. Her first class had been a new class, kind of shy and quiet, probably not interested for the most part, if she was honest. But still; a good class. And then, from across the hall, as her own class wrote her simple introductions in French, she'd heard him talking.

_"Let's look at an example, kids. Number one. 'The skirt Mia is wearing is too tight.' Translation? Anyone?" _

_She bristled, head snapping sideways to look at the teacher across the hall. Diego was standing in front of his class, one hand in his pocket and the other at the board, pen held loosely within slender fingers. Looking __**innocent**_**,**_ an expression that was ruined the second he threw a sly wink in her direction. _

They'd started the little war across the corridors the year before, after a 'personal disagreement' (or at least that's what the form said) in the staffroom. It had started with wry remarks in the corridor, all horrifically polite, of course, since they were _adults_. It had escalated into sending one another useless bits of paperwork right at the end of the day, so the other had to stay late. It had culminated in language-offs across the corridor, both of them arguing furiously in all the different languages they could remember (Spanish to French to Italian to German and even a few words in Russian and Hungarian before they went straight back to the beginning).

Their war had been rudely interrupted by the Summer Holidays, calling for an unbidden ceasefire between the two. And, with two months away from him, she'd started to forget that he even existed.

Not that he could let her continue that illusion when she got back, oh no that would be _far _too much to ask. After their conversation that morning, she'd almost wondered if they'd managed to move on.

Tucking in viciously to a ham salad sandwich, Mia began to doodle across the sheet of paper she always kept on her desk. She was particularly proud of the stick figure lying under a pile of rubble in the corner, coffee cup clearly visible on top. Next to it she started to draw more stick figures death; one lying face down in a puddle, another with a coffee cup impaled in the side of it's face, and third (her favourite) being beaten by a plant.

She glanced sideways through her open door and into Diego's classroom. Whichever individual it was that made it possible for them to be able to glare at each other every waking moment of the day deserved shot. Actually, it had probably been Mr Gant. He'd had control over final classroom placement after all, and it was not beyond him to stick herself and Armando as close together as possible.

"Ah, Charley," she said under her breath, standing up, "What did I do to deserve this?" Charley waved his leaves weakly. "Nothing? I agree," she made her way over to the plant and reached behind it, pulling out a mini watering can, "I'm gonna kill him, you know."

"Kill who?" _Why does that always happen? _ Mia turned her head and glared stonily into the oh-so-cheerful eyes of Mr Armando, once again hiding behind her doorframe.

"I wish you would stop doing that."

"Ha..! It seems I caught you talking to plants again." He had his lunch in one hand- a plate of what looked like meat and beans, and his ever-present cup of coffee in the other.

"Maybe I'll lend him to you, then you can stop disrupting my classes with your asinine jokes? Stop bothering me."

"Well, It takes two to Tango," he chuckled infuriatingly, annoying since she'd quite liked that come back.

"And in every dance there is always a lead!" She snapped back, watching his grin widen. God, he was annoying. And yet, she was giving him the satisfaction of a response.

"Ha..! I can't see you ever being lead anywhere, Ms Fey." And before she could respond, he had disappeared.

_I hate him. _

_

* * *

_

She was at her most displeased at lunch time. Nothing annoyed her more than being surrounded by people, especially if they were her own age. The level of maturity in this room could probably be matched by a nursery class. Long had she asked to be able to eat upstairs, in the common room for the oldest students, but they had denied her request. Denied her in case she made a _mess_. Dahlia Hawthorne was, frankly, very insulted. She put a hand to her head gently, checking her braids were still in place. She intended to take her case to the Headmaster after her food today, and the sweeter she looked the better. He was an old man. She could _easily _wrap him around her little finger; men were easy to manipulate.

And in the highly unlikely circumstances she should fail, she knew she could make a certain Kristoph Gavin listen. Though he was annoying- by god was he annoying, with his stupid glasses and irritating attitude- he was useful. Gant liked him. And that was all she cared about. Her final goal was far more important to her than avoiding Gavin; the less she had to interact with these irritating plebeians, the better.

Her twin Iris stood behind her in the lunch queue, quietly contemplating the book she was holding. The difference between the two was astounding. While Dahlia- at least on the surface- was open, confident and gentle, Iris was far more reserved, happy to stand quietly behind her sister as she schemed.

"Have you seen Kristy yet, Iris?" Dahlia asked sweetly, for she was always _lovely _in public, lest anyone discover just how much she was at loath to be here. It wouldn't do to tarnish her reputation, after all.

"N-not yet," Iris replied quietly. In truth she'd been too engrossed in her book to look. Dahlia kind of understood. If you could get away with not seeing Kristoph you were always better off. He was so horrendous to behold, such a trend-follower. Even if that trend was hideous.

"I do hope he hurries up," she mused as she took another step forward, nearly at the till, "I have a question to ask him." A second later and she was paying for her food- a disgusting mixture of pork and soggy beans that looked about as appetising as the filth the Home Economics teacher created. But, it was sustenance.

"We may as well find a seat for now," Iris said, once she had her lunch too, "I'm... I'm sure we'll see him when he comes in."

That was true. It was hard to miss Kristoph Gavin, after all.

Quietly they threaded their way through the tables, Dahlia smiling beatifically the whole way despite the sourness she felt. Once they came to a quiet corner, the twins sat down in unison.

"What do you need Kristoph for?" Iris asked, by way of making conversation. Dahlia rolled her eyes with a little laugh.

"I don't _need _him, silly! I just wish to talk to him," she made a show of sweetness, delicacy, anything to throw off the irritating glances being thrown her way. As soon as they were, she let her smile drop, "To use him. I cannot _stand _being surrounded by all these people. It's infuriating." And just like that, her brilliant smile was back, ready to charm anyone that walked past. Iris merely sighed- to say her sister wasn't a people person was not only being generous, it was downright _lies. _Not being a people person implied that she disliked adults, and her peers only. Not the case. If you were breathing, Dahlia probably hated you. A flash of blond hair caught her eye.

"Kristoph Gavin at three o'clock," she whispered just loud enough for Dahlia to hear. Dahlia didn't reply, she merely smoothed out her hair and stood up gracefully, running over to intercept Kristoph as he made his way through the lunch hall. Iris watched for a moment- the way her sister leant in close, and placed a delicate hand on Kristoph's upper arm, obviously complimenting him about something or other. Having seen it all before, she then looked around the rest of the room.

A few tables down she could see Miles and Phoenix, two of the other boys in her year, chatting away with a smaller, rather twitchy looking kid who rather looked like he didn't want to be there. She watched Phoenix sprinkle what looked like salt and pepper over his food before digging in heartily while Miles nibbled on an apple. They were so different, and yet the best of friends.

_Much like Dahlia and I_, she thought with a small smile, _apart from the fact that Dahlia doesn't think of people as friends, more as resources. _

"Iris!" Dahlia said a sing-song voice, arriving back at the table with three boys in tow, "This is Kristy and his friends Juan and Matt! They're going to join us for lunch, okay?"

"S-sure thing!" Iris replied, knowing she had no choice in the matter anyway. Kristoph sat down at the table, a somewhat fake looking smile plastered on his face. Dahlia squeezed in next to him, while Juan and Matt came to sit round beside Iris.

"I'm Kristoph Gavin," Kristoph said unnecessarily, leaning back in his chair and staring at Iris over the top of his glasses, "Although I expect you knew that already."

"Of course...," she replied shyly, inwardly shrinking away from his blatant egotistical display. She could see Dahlia felt similarly about him, and wondered if this would be the man to test her façade.

"Dahlia was telling me she was into tattoos," Iris resisted the urge to gaze at her sister- her 'pure', untouched and _completely untattooed_ sister, "Are you? I have two, you know."

"It's not really my thing... I'm sure yours are lovely, though,"

"Oh, they are," he said, sighing as if it was hard for him to be the centre of attention like this, "I expect you've heard people mentioning it before."

_Not at all, _Iris thought, _Who is this man, to be so full of himself? _

"Anyway, Kristy, I had a little question." Dahlia interrupted, her eyes flashing contempt for just a second. "You've always seemed really knowledgeable about things around here. So I was wondering if you could give me a little hand with something?" Iris could see before Kristoph had even replied he was going to agree. The second her sister had complimented him, he'd begun to smirk.

"I might be able to do so, I have some connections. What's the problem?"

"Oh, thank you! I-I don't really want to talk about it in public, do you have a mobile number I can try?"

"Of course," he said with a smirk, "Add me on MySpace as well. You do _have _one, don't you?"

"No..?" Dahlia went for upset-apologetic, "Should I have? W-why don't you tell me about it?"

* * *

Upstairs, above the hustle and bustle of the Lunch hall, lay the History and English departments. They were, apart from Drama (for which the school was famous), the two most popular subjects, and this year promised to be different. And while the quality of the teaching was usually very high, and the exams results strong, it was the teachers that really drew the crowds. In particular, the two respective heads of each department, Mr Manfred Von Karma and Mr Gregory Edgeworth.

Von Karma had been at the school for the last 20 years. He was highly respected at Gatewater, at least by the staff members that he considered important. Although he was not a conventional History teacher, he got results, which all but ensured he'd be here until he decided he wanted to quit. He also happened to be the father of one Franziska Von Karma, and by association she was feared by many of the students. After all, Manfred didn't get called "the teacher from hell" for nothing.

Mr Gregory Edgeworth couldn't be more different if he tried. He had been teaching for 10 years now and head of department for 5. He was kind, popular among the staff and students alike, and the father of Miles Edgeworth, who was generally considered fairly cool. His teaching methods were immeasurably different from Manfred's, in that he didn't scare the students into working, but he still got similar results from his students

Two of the most respected staff members in the school.

They also happened to hate each other.

Neither of them would ever admit to having started whatever argument began it all, but it was probably a hundred years old by now. All that was known was that Mr Von Karma did not like Mr Edgeworth, and Mr Edgeworth delighted in bothering Mr Von Karma. And headmaster Gant did nothing to stop it because he found it all really rather amusing.

"Manfred, _really, _I'm just aski-"

"You never _just ask, _Edgeworth, there is always an ulterior motive. And I would ask you to _cease _this nonsense now, as I am not interested."

Gregory stared at his esteemed colleague, his eyebrows quirked. It seemed Von Karma was taking no rubbish this year, if his little outburst was anything to go by. Admirable, Gregory thought, but annoying when he really did just need to borrow the projector.

"I'm not doing this to annoy you, Man-"

"Perhaps not purposefully - but sadly as long as you continue to be in my presence, you are annoying me. Desist immediately."

"I need the projector for my class, Manfred. I'm not going to steal it."

"As far as I recall, Mr Letouse has a projector. He, perhaps, is not using his this afternoon. I am. Are you finished?"

"Romein's room is 2 floors below us, and unless something has changed, I don't think there's an elev-"

"Then I guess you'll just have to walk," Von Karma interrupted, smiling nastily. Obviously done talking, he turned his back on the English teacher and began typing away on his computer, no doubt grinning smugly to himself. With a world-weary sigh, Gregory departed, making the short trip up the corridor and into his classroom. The clock on the wall ticked slowly onwards towards 1:30 and the beginning of afternoon classes. Which were going to be difficult without that elusive projector, he had to admit. Impatiently he glanced out of his doorway again.

_I wonder if Manfred still goes for that last toilet break before the bell? _ That had always been prime Projector-thieving time, and Gregory wasn't about to change his methods if he didn't need to. A quick peek down at his watch told him there were a mere 5 minutes before the bell aaaand- yes, there he went. Gregory grinned triumphantly as Manfred stomped (he couldn't walk like a normal person, not even after being here for ten million years) off towards the staff toilets. Speedily he jogged into Manfred's classroom and unplugged the projector, making sure all the bits and pieces were there. Satisfied that there were no traps to drop on him and thus kill him, he wheeled it off back to his room and sat it right where it belonged: In the centre of his floor.

_Fantastic. _

Quickly he closed his classroom door, turning the key as an after thought. Okay, so there were only 3 minutes before the bell. But that was plenty of time for Manfred to ready some sort of revenge and enact it, and quite frankly, Gregory was enjoying himself today.

* * *

The end of the day was welcomed by all the students in Max Galactica's Sophomore Drama class. Unlike the younger students- who had no choice but to be in his class- they had _chosen _to continue onwards with the subject, well aware that there was a good chance he would become their teacher once more. It wasn't that he was a bad teacher- indeed, there was no-one who could ever hope to be as dramatic as he; no-one who could ever teach the art of acting the way he did.

But he was very energetic.

Which was a problem when it was the end of your first day back at school, and all you wanted to do was sleep, not go to an hour-long drama fest that was sure to be anything but relaxing.

Klavier wasn't quite sure why he'd chosen to do the subject. He was, he had to admit, pretty lazy. And even he, with the shortest attention span in the world and a great, _great _love of not doing what he was meant to, knew that Drama? Wasn't for lazy people.

Maybe it was because Daryan had decided to do it, but Klavier didn't like to think he was as much of a tag-a-long as that. He certainly hadn't chosen it for the lessons, oh he knew quite well how to be dramatic. After all, he was a performer. A musician. A man of _talent. _

Or perhaps it was because the school was famous for the Drama department, and nothing would look better when he eventually became a rock star than a top Drama grade from Gatewater. His on stage presence could only be improved by taking the classes here.

Finally he'd settled on the only possible answer- he'd wanted the attention. It was true, Klavier did like to be the centre of attention. The one person in the middle of that large crowd that everyone talked about. And since the Drama department did a large-scale play or musical ever year... well, it was the perfect chance to get a bit of recognition.

It was set to be a good show this year, Mr Galactica had said excitedly. They were going to perform one of the 'most fabulous and emotional musicals ever written'. So fabulous, in fact, that apparently he was trying to recruit some of the staff to get involved. Klavier had never heard of the musical before, but he was sure he had the talent to get the main part should he so choose. Well, one of the main parts. It was already a given that Neil Marshall, the mysterious senior student that spent most of his time in Drama and Music, would get the _best _part. After all, it was his last year. But still, Klavier was very, _very _good. He'd get in.

"So, Les Misérables," he said with a smile, glancing in the direction of his new best friend Apollo, "Have you heard of it?"

"Er," he had a habit of starting off his sentences that way, Klavier had noticed, "Yes. I've read the book. And. Um. It's good."

_He definitely needs the drama lessons, _Klavier thought wryly. Apollo had interested him from the very second he'd walked into that maths classroom. It was rare at Gatewater High for students to come in after a year had already passed- it was a fairly tight knit community within the school and it was usually difficult for newbies to get a word in edgeways. But this _boy, _he was so amusingly neurotic and twitchy that Klavier thought he would never get bored. Plus, Ms Fey had told them all to be nice. So he was being _very, very _nice and welcoming and all that stuff.

"The play, though, have you seen it?"

"No. A-are you thinking of trying out?"

"Of course!" Klavier exclaimed, turning to Daryan who had so far been quiet (unusual), "We are both going to try out."

"Aren't you?" Daryan said incredulously, giving Apollo a strange look as if to say: why are you taking Drama if you aren't going to try out?

"Me?" Apollo squeaked, busying himself with smoothing out his vest, "I... hadn't, um,"

"Nonsense!" Klavier gave Apollo a hard slap on the back cheerfully, "You will try out with us and we will all get parts. Auditions are in a week."

Both he and Daryan laughed at the panicked look in Apollo's eyes; oh, the poor boy was so sheltered. That would have to change if he was to have any hope surviving his time here.

"C'mon Klav," Daryan said, glancing at his watch, "We've gotta go practise before the music room closes."

"Come on, Herr Justice," Klavier said happily, "You _must _come and hear us play."

What better way to become an extrovert than to learn from the best?

* * *

A school production of Les Misérables! Oh, who could be getting cast where. :D I've already decided where most of the parts are going, and believe me that was pretty hard considering how humorous the story is and how serious!drama Les Mis is. Gives me an excuse to listen to my CDS again, though, and that is never a bad thing.

Thanks very much for reading, and as ever all reviews make my friends and I very, very happy. Should we get them, we may be inclined to reveal a few secrets coming up in the plot. ;D


	3. Chapter 3

Man, you guys are awesome! Once again, thank you for all the reviews here and at Gyakuten_Saiban over on LJ. A note: If you review signed in, here at , I _will _reply to your review. :D Even if your review is "lol u suck go dye".

So, at the end of last chapter I promised a little insight into what's to come should there be a few reviews, and so here are a few little interesting misc things:

-There will be 3 het pairings, 2 yaoi pairings and 2 yuri pairings. At least one of them I don't think you'll have ever read before, but you have no idea how delighted I'll be if someone can prove me wrong. :D Also, before the characters involved settle into their pairings? There'll be drama.

Oh so much drama. I hope you're looking forward to reading it as much as I am to writing it. And finally, before we start, I'd like to copy a comment my friend posted while pimping out this fic:

"Don't take this too seriously, We certainly don't! "

* * *

The Drama theatre was a almost full to bursting, the turnout more overwhelming than anyone could have imagined. It was the pride and joy of the school, the Redd Theatre, so named for the _generous _gentleman that had offered to foot the bill for a reason only Headmaster Gant would ever know. 400 comfy, tiered seats led down to a semi-circular Orchestra pit and an ornate stage. The wings and the area at the back of the stage were currently covered by black cloth, though it was open enough in the middle for a little doorway to be seen. At least one hundred of the seats were currently occupied, by students and by bags of students, meaning that noise level was currently rather high. Every word echoed in this space- which was good for performances, but bad when you just wanted to get some attention from the class. Max Galactica was having the latter problem, although he wasn't really all that concerned. The turnout had excited him to the point that not much else mattered.

He had been teaching here for little over 2 years now, and this was only the third play he'd ever been in charge of. But he was confident there was the talent here to pull it off. After all, the principle cast for Les Misérables was fairly small compared to some of the other plays he'd done, and should worst come to worst, well, he would cast himself. Anything to keep this play _fabulous. _

"How exciting this is, Dee!" He said in a cheerful voice to the teacher who was standing beside him, twirling a baton between her fingers.

"Indeed." She replied softly, wrapping her shawl a little more tightly around her head, "But I feel you may tire after the first ten failures."

"Ah ha ha!" His laugh was loud and boisterous, his face the perfect picture of happiness, "Come now, Dee! I'm sure they'll all be _fabulous _and _wonderful _and-"

"I won't accept low-quality," she cut in smoothly, "These songs are masterpieces."

_Most __**definitely **__a music teacher, _Max thought fleetingly, before stepping forward and clapping his hands together sharply. Slowly the chatter died away until a pleasant _silence _filled the grand theatre.

"Alright, students! We are just about ready to begin!"

Phoenix glanced up blearily from his chair, watching as Max began explaining things. Drama things. Things that Phoenix didn't really understand and didn't particularly care to understand. It was 8 o'clock in the morning. It was a Friday. He didn't have any classes till 10 o'clock. So to be completely honest, he couldn't remember exactly _why _he was awake.

"I'm a little scared Phoenix, what if I mess up?" A nervous voice from his right interrupted him mid-grumpy inward rant. Phoenix glanced at the owner of the voice in mild confusion, as if he had also forgotten the identity of that person too.

_Oh yeah. Miles. It's Miles' fault I'm here. Why do I get forced into these things? _

He knew why, of course. Because Miles asked him when he was half asleep, and Phoenix was usually far more agreeable to these sorts of things when he didn't actually know what he was being asked to do. Funny how that worked.

"You'll be fine," he muttered, suppressing a yawn, "I'll cheer you on from down here or something. Where do you go when you're not auditioning?" Miles rolled his eyes in the way that only a drama student could.

"Backstage! You're not allowed to watch the auditions unless you're Ms Vasquez or Mr Galactica." He smirked, glancing at Phoenix's half-asleep expression, "And you're definitely not either of them."

"Good," Phoenix grumbled, pulling his hat down further over his face as Max nattered on in the background about 'inspiration' and '_being_ the character' and what not. "Don't really want to be a crazy teacher, anyway." A snicker to his left made him turn in that direction with a scowl. Neil Marshall grinned back.

"You're not auditioning then, Phoenix?" He whispered cheerfully, sitting casually back into his chair. Phoenix studied him for a moment. Neil was the quiet one in the senior year, quieter in fact than anyone else Phoenix knew (well, except Apollo, but that was 'cause the kid was new). He was tall, broad, ever-cheerful and -despite the fact that he wore cowboy hats a lot- pretty stylish. Popular, too, in a subdued way. Everyone knew who he was, and everyone knew just how talented he was when it came to acting.

"Me? Not likely," he snorted, "I'm surprised they haven't just given you the part." Neil laughed again, and Phoenix was struck by how calm he was compared to, say, Miles, who was shaking like a leaf beside him.

"There are plenty of talented people here, Phoenix. I think it'll be a challenge!"

_Yeah right, _Phoenix thought, doubtful, _not with the way Mr G has been staring at you the whole time. _

"You're too modest."

"And you overestimate me," Neil countered, but he bobbed his head in thanks at the compliment.

After wishing him the best of luck, Phoenix took to glancing at the rest of the people that had assembled around the hall. Immediately in front of him he saw the blond-haired monster that was Kristoph Gavin, nattering away to the (as always) pretty Dahlia Hawthorne. It was a bit of surprise to see the two together- Dahlia was sweet, gentle and pretty in a very delicate, classic way, and was also very popular around school. Kristoph on the other hand, was brash, impolite and downright cold. And nobody liked him, despite the garbage he constantly spewed about being 'loved'. He paused- maybe he was being too harsh. After all, Phoenix had an excuse to dislike the elder Gavin. Maybe he was simply biased.

Nah.

Matt and Juan, Kristoph's lackeys who liked him but not each other, were sitting a little bit further along in deathly silence. He hardly spared them a glance before moving on to where some people he actually liked were sitting. His lunchtime crowd were sitting whispering amongst themselves, looking largely cheerful. His attention was drawn to Apollo, though, who was staring straight ahead, face pale. Phoenix knew, somehow, that he wasn't enjoying this and rather thought that a certain Klavier Gavin had maybe put him up to it.

_Kid needs to come out of his shell a bit anyway, _he decided inwardly, _probably do him the world of good to be utterly torn to pieces by Ms V's criticisms._

Just as he was re-evaluating that last thought, he felt Miles suddenly grab his arm. Assuming that Max had finally stopped blathering and was actually getting down to the auditions, he turned around.

"You first on the list again this year?"

"_Every year!" _Miles hissed back, which Phoenix took to mean yes, "I-I- Oh god."

"Don't worry!" Phoenix said in a far-too-cheerful voice, "You'll be fine. Besides, this means we get to leave earlier." Miles gave him a look that screamed 'Shut up, Phoenix', which made him laugh rather than cower. "Good luck. Now let go, I need to go find a corner to sleep in."

Max watched as most of the students filed out of the room and into the backstage area, where they could practise their show tune pieces before coming out. Ms Vasquez's steely glare sped things up considerably, and soon he was left on stage alone with just one student in front of him.

"Miles!" He called cheerfully, "I'm _delighted _you're auditioning this year, why after your fabulous performance last year, sweetie-"

"What song?" Dee interrupted him, sitting herself down in the middle of the theatre. Max hurried to join her while Miles shuffled nervously, gaining his composure.

"_If I can't love her,_ from Beauty and the Beast," he said, placing his serious face on and emptying his mind of all thoughts of failure. Max muttered something- sounded an awful lot like _magnificent!- _before waving his hand at Miles to get started.

* * *

Backstage, Apollo had found himself a corner that he was tempted to hide himself in for the rest of the day. Even maths, the morning class he was missing to be here, would be better than going through with this ridiculous idea of Klavier's. Why had he listened? It's not like it had seemed a good idea at the time... It had been a really _bad _idea at the time, and why didn't he listen to his instincts?

He was going to have to work on that.

Trying to take his mind off things, he glanced around at the rest of his fellow Auditionees. There were about 30 students in this room; the other 70 or so were divided up among the other rooms backstage. Closest to him were Regina and Ema, singing quietly to each other and completely oblivious to their surroundings. Apollo was kinda surprised to see Ema there; she'd never struck him as a particularly musical person. With her white lab coat and what appeared to be an entire laboratory in her bag, he'd thought she was more of the scientist.

Then again, he'd only known her a week.

Behind them, Klavier was sitting on an unused desk, headphones plugged in and sunglasses on. Apollo watched him mouth the words to his audition song ('Why God Why?' or something. Apollo thought it would be better if _he _sang that one, personally. Considering it was how he was feeling and all) jealously. In the short time he'd known the boy, he'd already come to realise that nothing fazed him. At all. He said what he wanted, did what he wanted, and was usually very charming throughout it all.

_Stupid confidence. _

When the door opened he glanced up, fear burning through him. But, it was only Miles, pale but cheerful-looking. Phoenix, who was a little ways to the right of Apollo in the other corner trying to catch a snooze, blinked blearily.

"H-How'd it go?" Apollo asked nervously. Miles smiled at him with confidence.

"Oh, fine. It went better than I thought it might, anyway! Good luck," he turned away, looking now at Phoenix. Now that his audition was over, he seemed to realise that Nick should probably still be asleep, "Nick, wanna go grab some Coffee?"

"No," came the reply muffled by jumper, "I want to go to bed." But up he stood anyway, and Apollo had the wild urge to chase after them as they walked out the room (or, in Phoenix's case, shuffled).

"You nervous, kid?" Daryan plopped down beside Apollo and ruffled his hair roughly, grinning. "Don't worry. Only Galactica and Vasquez out there, and as long as Vasquez is in a good mood...," he trailed off, tone slightly malicious despite the fact he was clearly teasing. Apollo tried for a joking grin, but he was fairly sure it came out as more of a grimace.

"Daryan!" Ema snapped, turning round to stare at him, "Stop being a jerk. Ms Vasquez is nice!"

"Yeah, as long as you don't look at her funny. Or talk. Or breath," Daryan replied, still smirking.

"Just because she hates you doesn't mean she'll hate Apollo, you know."

"She doesn't hate me!" He sounded affronted at the _very idea _of being hated by anyone, "We just have our musical differences."

"Yeah," Ema countered, "In that she hates that noise you call music."

"Ah, Fräulein, that hurts!" They all turned to see Klavier, idly wrapping up the cord of his headphones. Apollo stared at him, wondering why he looked as if it was just a normal day and not cause for _great_ _panic _, "Our music is _beautiful _noise."

"Whatever you say Gavin." She turned away, a look upon her face as if she wished to do nothing more than throw something at the two men laughing behind her. Apollo sighed into his hands. When was this day going to end?

* * *

It had been an un-naturally quiet day at Gatewater, not that she'd minded. She lived for those days when she went into school and found the classrooms quiet, the lunch hall a little emptier, and her tutor class cut down by roughly a third. Even Miss Fey had looked pleased about it, but of course she couldn't say. Adrian _had _said so, though. Several times. She only wished that there were auditions for plays every day, then she might never have to see Klavier or Daryan or any of those guys ever again. It would be lovely.

"You should look more cheerful on a Friday," Franziska broke into Adrian's pleasant daydreams.

"H-huh?" Adrian blinked up at her friend, then suddenly smiled. "S-sorry, Fran. I was just thinking about how fun today has been! Wasn't I smiling? I'm surprised if I wasn't..."

"You were away with the fairies. But I must admit, the silence was welcome. Nice to concentrate, mm?"

"Exactly!" Adrian's eyes glittered as they always did when she was excited, "Don't tell me you didn't appreciate a day without Gavin and Crescend."

"I'd be lying if I said that, yes."

"Thought so," Adrian said brightly, "Are walking or getting a lift today?"

Franziska smiled tightly, "Papa is going on an errand. I believe he is using the car for that. You don't mind walking?"

"Of course not!" Adrian gave her friend a happy grin, "A-actually, I prefer it. Want to stop for ice-cream on the way?" Franziska gave her friend an unreadable look she'd inherited from her father, but Adrian could see the amusement in her eyes.

"Do you?"

"Maybe."

"Then we will." Adrian's excitement grew- if that was even possible- and she linked her arm through Franziska's comfortably.

The two girls lapsed into a comfortable silence as they walked. Every Friday, for as long as they had known each other, they'd gone over to Franziska's after school. On Wednesday's, when they both had half days, they went to Adrian's. It had become a tradition, one neither of them were really keen on breaking, and their odd friendship flourished because of it. They'd met back at a summer camp designed for kids wanting to learn or practise a new language- in their case German. Adrian was there because she'd always wanted to learn a language, Franziska because her father expected her to be able to speak both fluently. They were as different as could be- Adrian was quiet, shy and more than a little paranoid, while Franziska was confident, utterly self-assured and quick to anger. But, they'd hit it off. And when they'd started at Gatewater, they'd continued to be friends. When Adrian had broken up with Klavier over the holidays, Franziska had been there to have a 'few words' with him. When Franziska needed calming down, Adrian was there. They were good for each other, despite being on opposite ends of the personality spectrum.

They reached the Ice-cream parlour and ducked inside, unlinking their arms to get to their purses. Adrian gazed at all the choices in front of her, unconsciously nibbling on her lip as she tried to decide which flavour to go for today. Franziska didn't have such a dilemma, and stepped up to the counter as soon as she realised Adrian might be a while.

"Mint Chocolate, 2 scoops. Please." She asked, politely but coldly. She had the mannerisms of a woman much older, something which Adrian admired rather than feared, as most people did. Including the rather gormless looking shop assistant, apparently, as he rushed to fill the order as he hadn't with the customer previously.

"What d'you think I should get?"

"Strawberry," Franziska answered after a moment, "And Caramel too, if you are getting two scoops."

She liked that too. If you asked Fran a question, she'd answer, no matter how rhetorical.

"Sounds good to me!" The boy arrived back with Franziska's ice-cream, and she paid with exact change before taking her Ice-cream delicately. Adrian stepped forward, "Um, Strawberry and Caramel, please..?"

Soon they were back out on the street, arms linked once more as they enjoyed their little treat. It only took a further ten minutes to get back to Franziska's rather large and imposing house (her father had written a couple of quite popular history textbooks that seemed to bring in as much as his salary as a teacher), and Adrian was silently relieved when she saw that the car was gone. It wasn't that she didn't like Mr Von Karma- even if she did, she would _never _tell Fran- but he did scare her. Franziska fished around in her bag for the house key and unlocked the door presently.

The inside of the house was just as impressive as the outside. Dark wood and floors were present throughout, as well as large, ornate windows. The furniture was sparse but expensive, and the giant staircase that lead to the bedrooms were clad in thick, navy blue carpet. It struck Adrian as far too big a house for just Franziska and her father, but from what she'd learned, Fran's older sister had lived there up until not that long ago as well. Still, as Franziska slipped off her boots and stuck them in a hall cupboard, she couldn't help but feel that the place needed more people. She quickly followed Franziska's lead, popping her own trainers in the cupboard as well. After a moment she dropped her bag there too, deciding her homework could wait. They headed automatically for the kitchen, to poke around for juice and snacks.

"Has David been?" Adrian asked, referring to the cook Manfred von Karma had hired to prepare meals for the family so they could just heat them up later. A live-in cook had been out of the question; Manfred didn't let just _anyone _live in his home.

"Looks like it," Franziska replied, "I think he's left stew...,"

"That'll be good...," Franziska pulled a bottle of Cola from the fridge and a packet of crisps, passing both to Adrian so she could get a couple of glasses.

"Do you want to watch a film?"

"Did you get anything new over the summer?"

"Papa bought me some historical films-," she started, then spotted the rather uninterested look on Adrian's face. She laughed a little, "No? How about _Life on Mars_? We have the box set."

"Crime drama?"

"Of course." Franziska liked crime shows, more so if they had courtroom scenes (she was fascinated by all things lawyerly, which Manfred was all too happy to support), but Adrian knew she loved this _Life on Mars _programme. Apparently one of the characters was _most _fantastic at insulting people. By this time they were comfortable in the Von Karma's plush living room, which, like all other rooms in the house was impeccably tidy. Not even a spec of dust out of place.

"Okay then," Adrian said with a happy sigh, curling up in the corner of the plush leather sofa in front of the television and pouring them both juice. Fran soon joined her, remote in hand, and got cosy in the opposite corner. As the first few chords of the theme tune emerged from the speakers, both girls settled themselves in for a few hours of good TV.

It was like that Manfred von Karma found them, two hours later. He was in a surprisingly good mood- earlier in the week he had given a 'welcome back' test of sorts, and all his students had passed with satisfactory scores. Of course it wasn't _quite _good enough- for it wasn't perfect- but he was fairly sure no-one in _Edgeworth's _classes had passed those tests. At least not as high a level.

So he was feeling jovial. Or as jovial as it was possible for him to be. Even his bothersome errand (to drop of his suits for dry cleaning) hadn't dampened his mood, and so it was with almost a smile that he greeted his youngest daughter and her friend.

"Franziska; Miss Andrews." Both girls jolted up- they hadn't heard him arrive back over the sound of Gene Hunt beating up someone. Franziska rose to her feet gracefully to embrace him; Adrian was fairly sure she'd never seen anything more awkward. The first time she'd been over, Manfred had questioned her on everything from her parents (jewellers) to her future ambitions (to work in the entertainment industry) to her grades at school (Mostly high, apart from Gym). This seemed to go down well, for after the little interview Franziska had smiled gratefully and told her she would be okay to come around again.

That had been a little freaky, as she hadn't thought it'd been a test.

"Papa," she'd said at the time, "Strives for perfection. That he didn't growl at you means he thinks you have a chance." Adrian hadn't been sure whether to take that as a compliment or not.

"I trust your classes went well?" Manfred said, with only the vaguest look of interest on his face. Franziska nodded.

"Mr Armando told me I passed German with the highest mark of my year."

"Hmph. To be expected." He nodded stiffly to both girls before exiting the room and retiring to his office, leaving Adrian to finally release the breath she didn't realise she'd been holding. Franziska turned to look at her, an odd smile on her face.

"Hm. He is in a good mood today."

* * *

It was generally thought that because of the excellent Drama department, Gatewater had a magnificent Art department also. This was, sadly, not the case. Tucked away in a corner of the third floor, the studio was bright and open, but not busy. It was only times like this- when there was a play to begin preparing for- that ever really got any real attention.

Head of department, Valant Gramarye, was beginning to wonder if there was even a future for his beautiful art department. Artistic expression just didn't seem to be all that popular. Some of the students outfits were expressive though, and headmaster Gant certainly had... a style, so he couldn't work out why his subject was so unpopular!

Still, it wouldn't do to let his newbie class, now entering their third week of school, see his worry. They were all sitting in their seats just in front of large easels, chattering away quietly to their neighbours and waiting for him to start.

"Children!" He called in a voice that was a little too majestic for a simple art teacher, "I wish you to paint for me. Pictures full of _mystery. _Pictures about _you! _Use whatever resources you wish, I wish to see how wonderfully talented you all are."

Wocky Kitaki gave his teacher a hard stare. He didn't like art. Thought it was probably the most useless subject in this whole damn school, even worse than that stupid _French _lesson he had to go to on Tuesday afternoons. He sat back in his chair as the rest of the class began to run around picking up paints and brushes and pencils and other stuff _he _wasn't gonna use, 'cause he wasn't gonna do a painting. Or a drawing. Stupid waste of time class- why couldn't he just do another hour of gym or somethin'? Something not so _girly. _He glanced around the classroom, already bored out of his skull and itching to do something. Cody and Machi, two of the dudes in his tutor group who were pretty alright, were already sketching and looking _intensely _at their canvases. God, did it _get _more lame?

To one side he saw that mad Trudy Justice or whatever she was callin' herself. She was pretty sweet, funny, too. Wocky grinned to himself. After his last disastrous girlfriend (this total weird chick called Alita, man she'd freaked him out. His mum had liked her though, but what did parents know about these things?) he was looking to see if there was anyone else in school. He wanted to find a girl, someone he could spend money on and take places. He was so absorbed in his fantasies he didn't notice one of his classmates behind him, trying to squeeze past his chair which he had balanced against the back wall.

"E-excuse me...?" She whispered, almost too quietly for him to hear. He craned his head round curiously, fantasies momentarily forgotten. It was a girl, with shocking blue hair (weird, but it looked real good on her) and downcast eyes. She was clutching a pile of things in her arms, pressing them against her chest in an effort to make herself small enough to get through without bothering him.

"Yo, 'sup?"

"I...I need...," She trailed off, biting her lip nervously, and Wocky bent sideways to get a look at her face behind all that hair. He caught a fleeting glimpse of large blue eyes and a blush that had spread across her entire complexion.

_What's her name? _He thought excitedly, all thoughts of Trucy forgotten.

"Hey." He said sharply, leaning over to her and staring at her (unaware that it was, you know, rude), "What's your name?" The girl seemed to flush even darker, and Wocky half-smiled. She was cute too.

"...Vera," she said finally, ducking away after that one word and busying herself with blending and mixing her paints.

_Vera, _Wocky leant back in his seat again, content to just watch her as she began to sketch some simple shapes across her paper. If she noticed him staring, she didn't mention it, her attention was solely on her canvas. And that was fine with him, 'cause he didn't want her to look up and think he was desperate or anything weird like that (not that it was weird to appreciate someone else's artwork, right?)

Mr Gramarye didn't appear to agree with him, for Wocky suddenly found himself being loomed over. He glanced upwards and rolled his eyes.

"Aw, man..,"

"Mr Kitaki! I see you are taking the modernist approach this morning?"

"Yeah, man, whatever...," Wocky shuffled his chair forward so he didn't have to look up so high to see Valant, "I don't like painting, teach."

"Have you tried, Mr Kitaki? There is so much _mystery _to be found in painting!"

"Yo-," he was about to let loose with his usual barrage of unintelligible insults when he caught sight of Vera, peering at him fearfully through her hair. It was adorable, and he almost found himself smiling, but restrained it. Smiling like that wasn't _manly _after all. "I'm thinking. So step off, aiight?"

"Good, Mr Kitaki! Thinking is _good." _Mr Gramarye moved onto Vera next, examining the beginnings of her painting over her shoulder. "Miss Misham, this is simply _wonderful_ work. I can feel the magic and the mystery _leaping _off the page. Simply...," he trailed off, apparently lost for words.

"Th-thank you...," she whispered in reply, busying herself with mixing colours instead of looking around. Wocky didn't think he'd ever seen anything so damn cute.

* * *

Oh hells yes! End of chapter 3! Woo, that was a fun one to write. Lots of introductions to characters in this chapter, but there are YET MORE to come, I'm afraid. Rest assured, if you've not seen a character you love yet... they're on their way. :D


	4. Chapter 4

Hello again readers! I realise it has been a while, but it is finally the summer holidays and hopefully this means there should be a few chapters appearing soon. :D Welcome to chapter 4, I _do _hope you enjoy it! As always, please send a quick review when you're done reading to say what you enjoyed; getting reviews always makes a good day better, and I always reply when they're sent! If, you know, you want me to reply.

Anyway! This chapter. Oh, I like this chapter. Got lots of my favourite characters in it, and a few interesting surprises! A note on the developing pairings: They're gonna take a while to appear. Because I'm a foolish fool I basically decided that I couldn't just ignore some of the characters I like... so there's like 34. I don't even know. :| **It's gonna take a while to sift through the ~relationships~ and drama between them all. **

So, before we start, I leave a note: Don't take this fic seriously or I'll take your _face _seriously. If you know what I mean.

If you do, tell me. I have no idea what I just said.

...Onwards!

**Warnings: **Spoilers for Apollo Justice.

* * *

The Justice's home was larger than any Pearl Fey had ever visited before. It was situated in a fairly affluent neighbourhood, around a half hour away from the school, and she'd already seen one or two houses hidden behind electronic gates and high hedges. Trucy's house wasn't quite so guarded but it was still beautiful; modern in a way hers wasn't, with a large garden and pool. Nervously she pressed the buzzer beside the door, overcome with an irrational fear she'd somehow managed to come to the wrong house. Quickly she checked the scrap of paper Trucy had given her after class the day before. No, no- _definitely _the right place. Sounds from within the house caught her attention and she tucked away the piece of paper in time for Trucy to throw the door wide open.

"Hiya Pearl!" she said cheerfully, grabbing her wrist and tugging her inside before Pearl could even greet her properly, "Vera's already here, in the lounge, we're gonna watch some movies?"

"Sounds like fun!" Pearl giggled, barely getting a chance to admire the artwork up on the walls of the hallway before she was tugged into a bright, spacious lounge. Vera stared up at them from her seat on the floor- Trucy had thrown a couple of big pillows down so they could lounge about instead of squishing onto the sofa- and waved shyly.

"H-hi...," Pearl smiled at her warmly, dropping down beside her once Trucy had let go.

"Hiya Vera! How're you?"

"Fine... you?" She returned Pearl's smile, and Pearl was struck by just how much thought seemed to have gone into it. Vera had been home schooled up until this point, and Pearl realised that perhaps she had never had noisy friends like herself and Trucy.

"Fantastic, now I'm here!" She glanced around the room, in the way one does when they're visiting a new place for the first time. French Doors at the far end of the room let in most of the light and provided Pearl a glimpse of the gorgeous garden beyond. A plush, leather sofa sat against the wall, sans pillows, of course, and opposite lay the centrepiece of the room, a huge TV, flush against the white patterned wallpaper. Trucy hovered behind them, out of place in her colourful garb, before finally falling down onto the floor too and leaning back on her palms. She caught Pearl's expression as she continued peering around the room, trying in vain to see round behind the large pillars that separated the lounge from the dining area.

"The house is still a little empty, we haven't finished unpacking yet. Boxes upon boxes of stuff in the garage!"

"It's nice." Pearl insisted, "Bigger than my place!"

"Our parents are entertainers," Trucy smiled brightly, "It does mean they're out most of the time, but we do get to live in nice places like this. I hope we're staying here for a while."

"'Our'? Where is your brother, anyway?" Trucy had only ever really mentioned her brother in passing, and never in much detail, and Pearl was naturally curious about the circumstances surrounding Trucy's family life.

"Out, with Klavier Gavin." They grinned at each other at the mention of Klavier; everyone knew who _he _was, even newbies such as themselves.

"The one with the band...?" Vera chimed in nervously, peeking at her two friends over her knees. Trucy nodded.

"It's weird. Apollo doesn't like loud music much, and yet I saw him leave this morning for one of their rehearsals."

"Maybe he can introduce us...?" Pearl giggled, "I keep asking Maya, but she never does." Maya, Pearl's cousin, was in Klavier's friendship group and thus was instantly cool in her eyes and the eyes of many other people in the year below.

"How about you, Vera?" Trucy asked, turning to the other girl, "Any boys caught your eye yet?" The blue-haired girl blushed tomato red, hiding further behind her knees. When she answered, it was practically a whisper.

"N-no...," Trucy laughed and nudged her gently in the side.

"Don't blame you. Our year is devoid of good looking boys."

"Machi is kind of cute," Pearl contemplated, thinking of the blonde haired boy in their tutor class, "Cody's a dork, though. He still collects Steel Samurai cards!"

"Don't forget Wocky," both girls dissolved into laughter at the mention of their classmate; with his over-the-top gangster persona and questionable fashion sense, Wocky was the butt of many of the girls' jokes.

"He talked to me in art class the other day...," Vera said quietly, with a smile, "He asked me who I was."

"Well, you _are _cute," Trucy replied, causing Vera to blush again, "See! Adorable!"

"He kept staring at me."

"Maybe he's _infatuated," _Pearl teased, which didn't help Vera calm down any, "Just make sure you don't start speaking like him." All three girls laughed at that; the thought of any of them, particularly Vera, hitting out with "It's Aiiight," was enough to make their giggles go on for a long time.

"Well, we'll watch out for you," Trucy smiled and glanced at Pearl, "Right Pearly?"

"Of course! We'll watch your back, yo!" The giggles resurfaced, and this time it was a full five minutes before Trucy could every speak to ask her next question.

"Does Klavier have a girlfriend?" She was still curious about the school's resident rock star. "You'd think he would."

"Maya told me that he _did," _Pearl grinned, clearly happy to know something that her friends didn't, "Rumour has it he was dating a girl in his year since last Easter, but they split up over the holidays. She won't tell me anything else, only that it was quite messy."

"Ooh, exciting!" Trucy leant forward eagerly, "Any more news?"

"Nope! Maybe we should do some sleuthing!" Pearl laughed at the idea, even as she said it. It was ridiculous, of course....

Several hours later, one Apollo Justice arrived home after what could only be described as the most interesting day he'd had in a long time. His emotions were veering between cheerful and shell-shocked- he was unsure whether he should be happy because of the speed with which he had made new friends, or happy because he'd left them. In his old school- a rich, expensive place, oozing class, style and elegance- an exciting time had been watching the school's orchestra or visiting the museum. Apparently, they didn't do that sort of thing here (Daryan had laughed when Apollo had mentioned this, much to the brunette's displeasure. He was starting to get the feeling Daryan didn't like him very much).

He kicked his shoes off at the bottom of the stairs, aligning them neatly with the wall, before placing his messenger bag on top. The distant sounds of what could only be described as 'teenage girls' accosted his ears, and he remembered immediately that this was the day Trucy had chosen to introduce her house to her new friends.

_Do I have to do that for Klavier and Miles and Phoenix and Maya and everyone from lunch? _He groaned inwardly; he was an awful host. And he just knew that Klavier would go off exploring his house, all in the name of curiosity, of course, and then he'd find him a few hours later playing songs on his Dad's priceless acoustic guitar. And he'd have to invite Daryan, who'd probably put _his feet on the couch. _The thought of hypothetically confronting him about it was enough to make him nervous.

_But it's only polite that I let them come round... _And therein was the problem- it was unthinkable to Apollo to be _rude _and not have his new friends over, but did he really need the stress-induced insomnia and panic attacks that came before hand? What if they got lost? What if they arrived and had _nothing to talk about!_ He dwelt on this as he meandered through to the large, airy kitchen, avoiding any teenage girls that may be between the door and his destination. At least he probably wouldn't have a problem with the last one- the one thing he knew about all his new friends was that they were loud, talkative and easily amused. A good combination, probably. A delighted scream pierced the still air and he was reminded of the guests just through the walls. Of course he would go say hi- _politeness!-_but first he needed a stiff drink. Maybe cola. Perhaps even a _large _cola. He would have caffeine shakes to deal with later, but at the moment he needed something _strong!_

A few calming sips later and he headed through to the lounge, trying desperately to remember if Trucy had mentioned her friends' names. Meera? Ruby? _It was a precious stone, anyway. _Apollo supposed it didn't matter all that much, really- Trucy would introduce them the second she saw him enter.

"Apollo! Come meet my friends," _Ah, good old Tru. _

"Um, hello." He replied, in his best I'm-not-vaguely-embarrassed voice.

"This is Pearl-" his sister pointed to a short, brown-haired girl with large eyes and the same strange dress sense as his friend Maya (_Must be the cousin she mentioned, _he thought fleetingly), "-and this is Vera." She indicated the other girl, who was avoiding eye contact and hiding behind her shocking blue hair.

"I'm Apollo," he replied needlessly, "It's nice to meet you."

"So, how was the Gavviners band practise?" Trucy asked, grabbing Apollo's arm and looking at him excitedly.

"Er, okay? Pretty loud, I guess." _Very loud. Over-the-top loud. Far! Too! Loud! _Trucy appeared to be more excited about his visit than he had been. "Nothing like the music at our old school."

"Good thing too," Trucy replied, turning to give her friends a fleeting grin, "How was Klavier?" Apollo noticed the expression on the girls' faces change from curious to hungry, and realised that he was suddenly the new source of all gossip.

"Er," good way to start, to stall time..., "Fine, I guess. There wasn't much talking involved on my part, apart from telling him what I thought of his lyrics."

"_Apollo!_" Trucy exclaimed crossly, punching him in the arm lightly, "You need to do better than that! Now, have you invited him- and your other friends, of course- over yet? _It's only polite!_"

"I'm go-"

"Go do it right now!"

"Okay, okay!" Apollo fended off his sister with his free hand and jogged out into the hall, "I'll, er, ask the gang if they want to come over on Monday."

"Good." With that the three girls turned back to the TV, and began whispering amongst themselves once more.

* * *

In the centre of town, several miles away from the school, Dahlia and Iris Hawthorne were enjoying afternoon tea. They'd been to this little cáfe many times before, so often in fact that the owner of the place knew to have refreshments ready for them every Saturday at precisely 2 o'clock. Their booth, a quiet one beside the window, gave them a perfect view of the busy high street and anyone approaching. It also shielded them from the other denizens of the cáfe, leaving Dahlia free to be more like herself than her carefully nurtured persona.

"When did he say he'd be here?" Iris asked quietly over the rim of her cup, staring at her sister curiously.

"Quarter past," Dahlia replied, "He'll be here on time."

"I don't doubt it," Iris smiled hesitantly and got a sweet, fake, smile in return, "I don't think I'll stay for his arrival though." Dahlia's perfectly plucked eyebrows creased gently.

"Why?"

"Kristoph scares me a little, if I'm honest," Iris placed her cup down and leant a little closer to her sister, "And his ego is a little hard to cope with."

"Oh, that!" Dahlia waved her hand as if to bat Iris's worries out of the air, "It _is_ rather annoying, isn't it?"

"You agree?"

"Of course. But he has done me a favour-," true to his word, Kristoph had made it possible for Dahlia to sit upstairs in the common room and eat her lunch, far away from the other students, "-so I must do one for him. It's only polite." There was a slight inflection on her last words that gave Iris the distinct impression that Dahlia already knew what Kristoph was going to ask, and would be happy to comply.

"I wonder what it could be?"

"Indeed," Dahlia took a sip from her own cup of tea, before placing it gently back into it's saucer, "I have a few ideas, but it will be interesting to see if I am right about them."

_Of course you will be_, Iris thought, _you always are. _Out loud, she said: "Please be careful, Dahlia. It _is _our last year at Gatewater." Dahlia laughed her tinkling little laugh, covering her mouth with a small hand.

"You worry so much, Iris! Aren't I always so careful about these things?"

"Yes," Iris smiled, comforted a little by her sister's reassurance even if she wasn't fully sure she could trust her, "But, I should be going. He'll arrive soon."

"Well, If I can't make you stay," Dahlia sighed- fake, again, since Iris knew that Dahlia would prefer to be on her own if she was going to be plotting- "Then I'll meet you back home later, okay?"

Iris stood up from her place and gave her sister a brief hug, a grateful smile, and then fled out the door. Dahlia watched her through the window as she headed towards the shops down the other end of the high-street.

_She would have messed things up. I'm am more than aware of what is needed in this situation, anyway. _Dahlia, as probably the most popular girl in the school, knew well of the intricacies of the teen social ladder within Gatewater high. At the top sat Kristoph Gavin, Student Representative. He was well known, but not well liked, and held his position through force rather than personality. His brother, Klavier Gavin, was also very popular as a member of the designated 'school band', with the added bonus of also being a fairly nice person, if not a little arrogant and egotistical. His band mates, particularly Daryan Crescend, also warranted a modicum of interest. Completing the important 'male' group were Miles Edgeworth, his best friend Phoenix Wright and Neil Marshall. It was Miles and Phoenix that Dahlia despised most out of all her year- she had gone out with the latter for almost a year, before being dumped for a reason she could not fathom, but she suspected that Miles was involved. Neil Marshall was troublesomely nice, but knew everyone, which made him useful.

Out of the girls, she was not being egotistical to say she was probably the most popular. Everyone knew she was- she was sweet, kind, generous and always friendly when spoken too. Other than her, Franziska Von Karma was worthy of attention- she held more power than she knew, simply because of the man to whom she was related.

Her musing was interrupted by the familiar sight of Kristoph Gavin walking down the road towards the cáfe. His hair was voluminous and shiny today, exuberant in a way it couldn't be at school. She couldn't say she was a fan of the tight jeans he was wearing, nor of the powder-blue t-shirt, but at least she was able to look at him without wincing. Sunglasses obscured his eyes and made a fashion statement, which Dahlia knew was probably more of the point. She couldn't help but think this was his 'understated' outfit, designed to hide from the world who he was. It failed, if that was the case. Dahlia may have almost found him attractive, once. As it was, her knowledge of the man's personality turned her off him completely.

"_Kristy, _nice to see you!" She said when he entered the little cáfe, and stood up to give him a hug. That was the usual teen greeting after all, and when she was looking as gorgeous (and sweet, and delicate, and all those other stupid words) as she did today, she knew he wouldn't complain.

"Dahlia, good to see you too," Kristoph replied, releasing her from the hug and sitting down where Iris had been, "Is your sister not here?"

"She's a little unwell," Dahlia said, arranging her features into a worried expression, "But when you messaged me, I knew I had to make time to come out and see you!" _Stroke his ego and he'll be putty in your hands. _

"Yes, well, thank you very much," Kristoph smiled a smile as fake as hers, pushing his sunglasses up so they nestled in his hair. Dahlia managed one in return.

"What is it you need my help with? I'll be happy to do anything I can."

"You know, of course, that I am the most popular boy in the school." A statement of fact rather than a question, so Dahlia had no choice but to nod her head in understanding, "And that for the last few years I have had a well-publicised feud with _Wright _and _Edgeworth_." She nodded again, hiding a smile. She had been right. "Well, I feel it is time to end this feud. Permanently. And since you and I seem to be on the same wavelength about such things as petty arguments-" she didn't bother mentioning that he started most of them, "-I would like to offer you the chance to help me."

"Of course, I understand and sympathise with you," Dahlia replied, for now ignoring the somewhat large threat evident in the word _permanently_ and summoning tears to the corners of her eyes, "And after the way Phoenix dumped me so callously...,"

"Horrible,"

"I know, I know... What did you have in mind?" She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief before folding her hands delicately on the table .

"Their reputations must be ruined. It helps that they are friends of my brother- if I can bring him down too, all the better. I do not like being second-best to a over-hyped band freak!"

_Oh, you've been second best for a long time, Kristy darling, _Dahlia smirked inwardly, _but I have wanted to destroy Phoenix for a long time now. Teach him that he does not ruin the plans of Dahlia Hawthorne so easily. _

"It will need a little expansion, of course," she said, pretending to be wavering, "And my involvement will be _most _subtle, because I dislike being so mean...," _lies, all lies, _"But I must repay you for your kindness, and if this is the way you wish me to do it, then you have my full support." She smiled beautifully, and leant over to pat Kristoph's arm, "How can I be of service?"

* * *

A few hundred yards down the road, Iris was hiding out in one of her favourite shops- the Art store. Mr Misham, the owner, had taken her for private art lessons when she was little, and painting had stayed a hobby of hers ever since. She didn't study it at school, choosing instead to take Music, French, English and Home Economics, but enjoyed it none-the-less. It relaxed her a little, and when Dahlia was plotting like this then she definitely needed something that would help her relax. More often than not she'd been a pawn in Dahlia's plans, used as cover when her sister needed to hide for a while, but this time she was determined to stay out of it. Kristoph really did worry her, with his excitable attitude and continual assertion that he was 'the best' at everything, and the 'most popular' of all the people at the school.

In truth, she kind of despised him, and hoped that maybe in the end Dahlia would double cross him and show his true colours to the school. That was unlikely, though- he was far too useful.

_If he tries to make her get a tattoo though, then the fireworks may begin to fly. _The thought of her sister, with a few of Kristoph's little emo star tattoos on her wrist, made her giggle.

She browsed through the oil paints, eyes drifting across the names on each tube as she searched for the one she was out of. _Thio Violet... _Maybe when she went home she could do a few pictures, take her mind off all the teenage drama swirling about in the background. So absorbed was she in searching, she didn't notice or hear a man calling her name until he tapped her on the shoulder.

"Iris?" She started, dropping the paint tube she'd just plucked from the shelves. Before she could bend down to get it, he'd already picked it up to gaze at it, eyes furrowed in curiosity. "Didn't know you took art?" Iris smiled nervously. She didn't like running into people from school like this.

"I don't, it's just a hobby. Hi, Neil." He grinned back at her and handed back the paint.

"Sorry for startling you! I don't usually see you without your sister."

"She's meeting with friends today," Iris replied, seeing no reason to lie when it was Neil to whom she was talking; Neil Marshall probably couldn't be any more kind if he tried. He was a simple guy, pleasant, friendly and hard-working, and anyone that had a problem with him was generally thought of be a bit of a bastard (naturally, Kristoph despised him), "What are you doing out in town?"

"Same thing as you, I expect," he glanced at the oil paints beside Iris, "Did you get the last tube of violet?"

"Oh, I think so... do you need it badly?"

"Don't be silly," he said quickly, brushing her concerns away with a few short words, "Just means I'll need to improvise." Iris stood a little to the side, wondering if there had been a reason he had stopped her, or if he was simply being polite. She suspected the latter, but didn't mind really- it was nice to talk to someone without her sister constantly breathing down her neck or taking over the conversation.

"Have you begun to practise the piano piece yet?" She commented after a moment, by way of making conversation. They shared a music class, and both of them took Piano as their primary instrument. Last week they'd exchanged a few words regarding the difficulty of the piece of music they'd been given, so it seemed like a good topic. He gave her a somewhat sheepish glance.

"Not yet. Been too focused on Drama."

"Oh, that's right, you tried out for the show, didn't you?" Iris was genuinely interested; she wasn't at all suited to drama herself, but would be playing in the orchestra for the show, and so naturally wanted to know who would be singing the songs she played.

"That I did," he spoke modestly- Iris knew _he _knew he was the best in his year at singing and acting, but would never say so- "There are some strong contenders this year though."

"You'll do well," Iris smiled warmly at him, and was surprised to see him blush a little.

"Everyone keeps saying that, It'll be disappointing if I don't!"

"W-well," damn, that blush was throwing her off, "_I _think you'll be great. Any thoughts on the other parts?"

"Well, you heard Ms Vasquez in class, raving about Edgeworth and the Gavins-" he stopped at the slight grimace of displeasure on Iris's face and grinned, "You don't like the Gavins?"

"N-nothing like that!" she replied quickly, "Just, Kristoph Gavin and Les Miserables don't seem to be a ...a..."

"Natural combination?"

"Right."

"They're good singers, both of them," Neil looked thoughtful, "I wouldn't be surprised if they were cast."

"You look as if nothing would surprise you," Iris teased gently, "But you _are _good at ignoring things. Ms Vasquez said you were good too."

"Ah, she always says that."

"Because it's true!"

"I'm not going to win this one, am I?" He laughed, plucking a few tubes of paint from the stand and standing back to observe the rest.

"Nope," she grinned back, twisting the paint tube between her fingers, "But I _do _agree with you; I think it'll be close."

"Did your sister try out?"

"Yes, although I would have assumed you'd have seen her at the auditions." She wrinkled her brow, wondering if perhaps her sister had changed her mind at the last minute.

"I spent most of the time talking to Phoenix and Miles," he replied, "Although I don't think Phoenix really wanted to be there." Iris's smile tightened a little. She wasn't sure how she felt about Phoenix- on the one hand, she admired him for his attitude, the easy-going way with which he approached everything from school to _life. _On the other hand, her sister hated him. Neil must have noticed the expression, for he frowned a little too. She jumped in before he could speak.

"Are you finished shopping? I mean, are you ready to pay?" His expression cleared and she gave him another warm grin, turning towards the till. Behind her, Neil blushed once more, though she didn't see it. Instead she was hiding her own red cheeks, and the big smile that accompanied them. She had always thought well of Neil, looking up to him as one creative person to another, and it was nice to talk to someone who seemed to have no secret agendas whatsoever.

Outside, they stood awkwardly opposite each other, both aware that their chance meeting had extended into a far longer conversation, thanks in part to a huge queue at the till.

"Well-" Neil began, scratching the back of his head lightly, "You off shopping anywhere else just now?"

"N-no," Iris replied, cursing the nervous stutter and forcing herself to smile, "Just off home. You?"

"Same." He glanced at her fleetingly from beneath his hat, then up and down the street, as if contemplating something. "Do you wanna go get a coffee?"

"C-coffee?" She flushed herself, excited and worried at the prospect of taking the initiative and doing something without consulting her twin first.

"Sure. If you want?" He smiled wonkily, "It's nice to talk to someone else in our year about the play, and I know a place just down the-"

"Not there," Iris interrupted with a wry smile, "I think that's where Dahlia is, with her, um, friends. How about Trés Bien? I've never been before..."

"Okay then," Neil grinned back, and gestured dramatically down the road, to where the distant pink sign for Trés Bien could be seen, "Let's go."

* * *

Monday came far too quickly for Mia, perhaps since her weekend had been entirely devoid of 'free time' (whatever that was) and instead full of marking papers. Which was astonishing, since school had barely been back in session for 2 weeks, and she hadn't even given out all that much homework yet. Still, it piled up, and there was nothing worse than trying to read the hesitant German of a 16 year old who didn't really want to be in the class, than perhaps realising that she herself was so tired she was translating wrong. Her only comfort was that Diego, her fellow languages teacher, would have had just as much marking as she did, assuming he followed a lesson plan like she did. Which, she had to admit, wasn't _totally _possible. And the thought of him cooped up marking made her life all the better, for when Diego was unhappy, she was cheerful (and it was usually vice-versa).

_Unfortunately, right now I couldn't be in a worse mood..._

"Oh, I spent most of the time out at one of the clubs in town" the man in question was saying to another teacher, Gumshoe from the PE department, "All in all... Good weekend." Mia couldn't quite bring herself to repeat what he'd just said in her head. It wasn't fair, she thought childishly, that every time she imagined him being in pain, or being _wrong, _he always turned out to have found a way to fix it. She shifted in her seat, a squashy arm chair in the corner of the staffroom. The other teachers were milling about, enjoying the last cup of coffee before the day began in earnest. Across the room she spied the headmaster, talking in a booming voice to Mr Von Karma about school trips and other stuff she was sure she'd hear about at the next meeting. To her right, Lana was chattering away merrily with Maximillion, and Mia suddenly realised she was the only one in the room with the sour expression.

She _had _to stop him getting to her like that.

"Ms Fey?" Diego's voice squirmed back into her brain and lodged there, and she forced herself to respond, smiling at him over her cup of coffee. "How was _your _weekend?"

_Stupid smug bastard. _"Fine, thank you," she replied in her best polite voice, still clenching the coffee cup between her hands, "I didn't realise you had so much free time to spend drinking." His smile in return seemed to mirror hers, and she wondered fleetingly if his thoughts were doing the same.

"I finished all _my _work during the week, Ms Fey. I take it you had to do marking?"

"You can't have finished it all that quickly," Mia was annoyed at the slight whiny quality her voice took on, and resolved to eliminate it when Diego invariably replied.

"I mark quickly."

"Correctly?"

"Has there ever been a problem, Ms Fey? I believe it_ is _you that cross-marks everything?" He had her there, she had to admit, and she knew her lack of snappy response would convince him he'd won. Indeed, the smile was already spreading across his face, and she had the ridiculous urge to throw her coffee cup at him.

"Aren't you a little old to be going to bars and clubs, now?" she went for instead, while inwardly disagreeing with herself because as much as she hated to admit it, Diego was ageing well. He still looked like he was in his 20s. Irritating, when he was 34, 4 years older than herself. She was pleased to see his eyebrows crease inwards, though- perhaps his age was a sore point.

"Hardly, Ms Fey." That answer made her smirk, and she knew he had noticed when his expression got a little tighter. It hadn't been the best comeback ever, and he knew she would pounce on this point and wring it out, should it mean winning an argument.

"There are plenty of places _a man of your age _could visit," she said cheerfully, sitting forward in her chair and smiling happily at him. It had been a while since she'd won one of these little fights. To her surprise, he glanced away briefly, but his eyes had locked with hers again so quickly she was sure she had imagined it.

"Perhaps you could take me to them?" He arched an eyebrow at her teasingly, and before she could get up and ask what exactly he'd meant by that, there was an interruption.

"Mr Armando! Miss Fey!" They both turned at the same time, to see the purple-clad Maximillion Galactica staring at them with what could only be described as _stars _in his eyes.

"Yes?" They both replied, immediately shooting each other a glare, before turning back to Max.

"Do you sing?" The question was so out of left-field that neither of them responded for a moment. Diego was suddenly becoming aware that the entire staffroom- save Manfred, who apparently found his paper more interesting- were watching them. Including the Headmaster. Mia was merely staring at Max, trying to work out what his ulterior motive was.

"A little...?" She replied cautiously, looking at Diego as if this was somehow his fault. He shrugged almost imperceptibly before answering himself.

"Not... professionally."

"But well?" Max looked so excited that Diego couldn't bring himself to disappoint.

"I would say so."

"_FAB-U-LOUS!" _Max exclaimed, putting an arm round of each of the two distinctly confused teachers in front of him, "Of course, Dee will need to do audition you, darlings, but I am _fully _behind this completely and utterly! Mr Gant, would this be possible...?" He turned to the Headteacher with gleaming eyes, while his two new best friends shrugged out from his grip and glanced about themselves in rising panic.

"I would say," Gant replied, voice slow and thoughtful, indicating somehow that Mia and Diego's future at this school depended on decisions made in the next three seconds, "That it was a brilliant idea! Oho! Are you up for it, Armando? Fey?"

_I can't disagree with the headmaster, _thought Mia desperately, unaware that Diego was thinking the same.

"I guess-"

"I'm sure-" They both stopped, looked at each other briefly, then back to Gant and Max.

"What are we, uh, auditioning for?" Mia questioned, "Only, um, you never told us."

"Why, what else? The school play! I've been searching for _so long for_ the best actors for the parts, and you two are simply perfect, and-"

"Hold on," Diego interrupted, " The play? Lés Miserables? I've read that (in it's original French)-" Mia glared at him for what was clearly another poke at her, "-What parts are you proposing we take?"

"Your chemistry-" Mia spluttered at this, trying to ignore the titters of the other staff members, "-means you could be none other than the Thernardiers!" Diego's gaze was stony.

"The thieving, abusive, and altogether argumentative... _married couple?" _And, while Max tried to answer, the rest of the room exploded into laughter.

* * *

Holy moly, finished another chapter! And this one is the longest yet, at over 6000 words. Which ain't bad, I'm telling you. So, what's up for our characters next chapter? Well, the cast list for the school play will be posted, Vera will once again encounter Wocky, and Franziska and Adrian will have a "discussion". Plus, of course, a lot more! So review, review, review, and I'll see you next time! :D

-Nickel


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE! Man, this is exciting, I've not got to Chapter five of _anything _recently. Once again, I must express my love and gratitude to everyone that reads and reviews; that sort of stuff makes my day!

**Sin **and **Dei, **you guys get the biggest, snuggliest thanks of all!

Taking this fic seriously is as pointless as taking _me _seriously. _Remember that. _

**Warnings: **Edgeworth in the middle of his teenager rebellion, my attempts at writing Wocky and some inventive German.

* * *

Apollo Justice, nervous wreck extra-ordinaire, enjoyed Thursdays. You might even say it was his favourite day of the week. Monday to Wednesday were average, normal days; Friday was the day before the weekend, when everyone was too excited to get anything done. Thursday was a nice fine balance between the two. Excitement, and normalcy. Or in other words, Apollo being stressed, and Apollo being calm. Excitement implied _expectation_, and the last thing on Apollo's list of stuff he liked was expectation. Didn't do his health any favours.

And yet on this Thursday, he was stressed more than he thought possible. Which shouldn't have been _possible_ when all that was in front of him was a large sheet of white paper, filled with names and pinned on a noticeboard. It wasn't the other people crowding to see the paper that stressed him, or the loud noise of chatter, no- it was the paper itself.

**LES MISERABLES**

**CAST**

**JEAN VALJEAN – NEIL MARSHALL**

**INSPECTOR JAVERT- MILES EDGEWORTH**

**FANTINE- REGINA BERRY**

**MARIUS PONTMERCY- KLAVIER GAVIN**

**ÉNARDIER- DIEGO ARMANDO**

**MADAM THÉNARDIER- MIA FEY**

**COSETTE- EMA SKYE**

**EPONINE- DAHLIA HAWTHORNE**

**BISHOP OF DIGNE- JUAN CORRIDA**

**GRANTAIRE- DARYAN CRESCEND**

**GAVROCHE- CODY HACKINS**

**YOUNG COSETTE- TRUCY JUSTICE**

**YOUNG EPONINE- PEARL FEY**

and then, in tiny letters, much further down the paper under the heading "Chain gang/Students", was the cause of Apollo's severe mental trauma:

Matt Engarde, **Apollo Justice**, Doug Swallow

"See!" Klavier was saying in his ear, beyond cheerful, "I said we'd all get parts, Ja?" Apollo turned to stare at him with dead eyes. This was his fault. Klavier only laughed and clapped him on the back, turning to Daryan who was smirking beside him. "How appropriate you get to play the drunkard!"

"How appropriate _you _get to play the love-sick fool," Daryan snipped back, and they both grinned at each other, then at Apollo. Usually that was Apollo's sign to laugh, but today he merely stared at them. Stared through them, actually. It was kind of freaky.

"Apollo, are you in there?" Klavier waved a hand in front of his friend's eyes. "_Wach auf!" _Apollo refocused on Klavier, and eventually stuttered:

"How- how did I get a part?"

"Ah, he lives."

"My audition was awful!"

"Clearly they _saw something there," _Daryan was grinning at him, amused no doubt by Apollo's meltdown.

"I had my eyes closed for the whole thing!" Klavier burst out laughing.

"Du verarschst mich d-You'rekidding me?"

"I-I'm not very good on stage." Apollo groaned and placed his palms against his eyes, wishing faintly he could just go home and pretend this had never happened. "It's just a small part, right?"

"_Well...," _Daryan started, but Klavier butted in before he could finish.

"Ja, ja- a small part. You probably won't even get your name in the programme," he meant this in a reassuring way, although to anyone else it probably would have been an insult. As Apollo was about to answer, Trucy appeared by his side, bouncing excitedly.

"We're both in the play, Polly!"

"_Polly?"_ Daryan muttered to Klavier under his breath, laughing as Trucy chattered a mile-a-minute to her brother, who didn't even appear to be trying to keep up, "That's not a good nickname."

"Hm?" the blond wasn't really listening, and was instead scanning the crowd for his other friends that had made it- he caught sight of Ema and Regina and squeezed through to see them. "Congratulations!"

"Congratulations to you too," Ema replied, bouncing on the balls of her feet, "Guess we're getting married, huh?"

"I'll be a _wonderful _husband."

"I'll believe that when I see it."

"I've always wanted to play Fantine...," Regina's eyes were sparkling so much, Klavier began to wonder if perhaps there was glitter involved, "Her songs are so beautiful!"

"When do we get the scripts?" Ema asked, "I didn't get a chance to look at the poster for very long."

"It says 'Next Monday', for a brief run through. But that isn't important!" Klavier dug around in his pocket briefly. "We need a night out to celebrate, ja?"

"If you say so." Ema sounded less sure- nights out with Klavier usually ended up with someone carrying him home.

"So ist's recht!" he muttered happily, already tapping out a text message, "We need to show Apollo a good time anyway. He hasn't been out with our group yet!"

"Lucky him." Apollo and Daryan appeared just as Ema finished talking, and she grinned at them.

"Well done! Looks like our group has taken most of the roles."

"Well, we are pretty talented," Daryan replied, comfortable in his smugness. Apollo, somewhat calmer now that he realised he probably wouldn't have to sing a solo line, smiled back at her. Klavier slung an arm over his shoulder, pocketing his phone as he did so.

"There! On Saturday, we rock." Apollo gave him, then his arm, a questioning glance.

"We do?"

"We are going to take you out, Polly!" Apparently, Klavier liked this nickname, "We'll get ready at your house first, okay?"

"Wh- out? Where? Of course, you can come round, but-"

"Fantastic! We shall be at your house, 8 o'clock, on Saturday. Okay?" Apollo stared at him, at the cheerful expression, the stupid, stylish hair and the annoying sunglasses.

"....Okay." He was sure he was going to regret this.

* * *

To many students, the library at the school was something of an unknown entity. Filled as it was with books, computers and newspapers, it didn't readily supply the drama that most pupils at Gatewater regarded as necessary for survival. But for the few that used it's resources it had become an oasis of peace in the wide oceans of teenage drama; somewhere that, uniquely in the school, actually seemed to be dedicated solely to learning.

Thus, it was the place Franziska von Karma and Adrian Andrews spent many a free period, working on their projects from the three classes they shared together.

"Not," Adrian whispered, when Franziska was looking over their timetables, "that we'll be doing many written projects for Gym class." Franziska smiled at her slightly, tapping her pen against her teeth. Adrian, sitting opposite her at a small table surrounded by bookshelves, smiled back.

"Mr Armando and Mr Edgeworth will not be so kind, I think," Franziska whispered back eventually, the accent in her voice a little more pronounced when she was trying to speak quietly. Her father had taught himself to speak perfect English, sans his native accent and all, and expected her to be able to do the same. Usually she did, but with Adrian it was safe to let herself speak as she wished. Adrian didn't mind; she had no trouble understanding, and found the slight lilt to be almost cute, a word not often associated with Franziska.

"I don't think anything Mr Armando gives you will be a problem."

"Papa told me he asked for me to be given university level German work," Franziska glanced at Adrian with a smile that seemed to suggest her father did this all the time, "along with my usual class work."

"No pressure then?" Adrian's own parents were largely unconcerned with how Adrian did at school, as long as she was happy and kept her grades high. Any tales she told them of Franziska usually ended with mutual raised eyebrows and a 'bet you're glad _we _don't do that to you'. But Franziska seemed happy, and at the end of the day, that was what mattered to Adrian most. As if guessing her thoughts, Franziska shook her head and said simply:

"I like a challenge." They settled then into a comfortable silence broken only by the scratch of pencils on paper as they outlined their next English essays. Adrian was just about to speak when she felt her phone vibrate against her thigh, and hurriedly retrieved it to peek at it under the table. A message.

_Achtung, contacts! Night out planned this weekend, who's interested? Und Daryan? Heute siehst du echt keimig aus! lol ;) Klavier x_

Adrian stared at the text for several seconds, trying to translate Klavier's German slang before giving up and dropping her phone angrily on the table. The sharp clatter made Franziska look up briefly.

"What is wrong Adrian?"

"I keep forgetting that I have Klavier still in my phone contacts," Adrian mumbled, "I always pick up the phone to delete him, then get distracted." Franziska's expression became clear with understanding, and she plucked the phone from the table to read the offending text.

"Hmph. _'You look like shit today'_? Not one of Klavier's best insults." Adrian muffled a grin, but the serious way with which Franziska translated even the most casual of insults made her laugh despite herself.

"Would you delete him from there for me, before I forget again?" she asked, and saw Franziska's fingers move delicately over the keys on the phone. It had only been about 6 weeks or so since she'd broken up with Klavier, and less than that since she'd had a shouting match with him down the phone in broken German (after he'd thought it would be _hilarious _to let Daryan drunk-dial people in his phone book), so thinking about him didn't exactly make her very happy.

"Do you want me to have more words with him?"

"No, no... I think he got the message last time...," dimly she remembered the day he'd grinned at her from across the street, only a few days after they'd split. The grin had disappeared fairly quickly when Franziska appeared in front of him to give him five really good reasons why he didn't want to bother Adrian for a while, most of them involving Franziska and him being in pain, "It's not like he's done anything wrong."

"His foolishness bothers me as well," Franziska sniffed haughtily, passing the phone back across the table, "Maybe I will have words with him on my own behalf." Adrian couldn't help but giggle at that, at the way Franziska treated life a bit like an essay- it needed to be planned, and god forbid you undertake it with anything less than a perfect vocabulary.

"I don't care for him any more," Adrian rested her head on her arms, staring at Franziska over the top of her glasses, "He's... not important."

"I am glad you and I finally agree on that," Franziska replied without looking up from her essay, "The next person you choose to fall for should be someone not so uncouth, mm?" Adrian continued to stare at Franziska as she worked, butterflies twisting inside her stomach nervously. Which was silly, she knew. Franziska had always been easy to talk to about crushes- she treated them logically, analysing the good things and the bad things, then advised the best course of action.

The only problem was, Adrian wasn't sure how Franziska would treat someone that had a crush on _her. _

_

* * *

  
_

It had been far too long since he had seen his beloved, and by that, Wocky meant a day and a half.

And by beloved, he meant 'girl he had his eye on and had been watching for roughly ten days'.

Which was basically the same thing, he thought, as he left his last class of the day (French, God, how boring was that?) and headed for the exit. It pissed him off that they didn't share all their classes, him and Vera, and he was thinking of getting his pops to change it for him. Who cares if there were 'timetable constraints' and 'too many people in your year to let you all take the same classes at once'- they were just bullshit excuses that all these adults spouted out to get him to follow their rules.

And Wocky really hated following rules.

Especially when they meant that he currently only saw Vera 3 times a week- in Art, English, and Gym. And for two of those classes, she had her _other _friends, and so he never got a word in edgeways. The other day, when he'd tried to talk to her, that Trucy chick had come all up in his face and by the time he'd got rid of _her, _Vera had disappeared.

So now he was planning. Planning on a way he could speak to Vera again without any of those friends of hers getting in the way and keep him separate from his true love (The thought that perhaps his over-zealousness was what was costing him valuable time with Vera never even crossed his mind).

"Dude, she's friends with Pearl, right? I can ask her to-" that was his best friend Cody, _trying _to be helpful again.

"Naaw, man!" Wocky interrupted, saddened by Cody's lack of _romance, _"It ain't romantic if I get you to do it!"

"Yeah, but you've been going on about this _all day." _

"You gotta problem with that?" Cody shook his head quickly, and Wocky nodded. Damn straight he didn't have a problem with that. They rounded the corner, their target destination being the lockers that ran along the wall at the stop of the stairs. But, as was usual with Wocky, he liked to take the long way.

The long way this time being via the blue-haired girl that was standing nervously to one side, clearly waiting for her friends.

"Dude, there she is...!" he nudged Cody hard in the ribs, causing his friend to topple several feet sideways, but that was hardly important when Vera was right in front of him like this. He pushed through the crowd, employing his elbows once again to move a man nearly a foot taller than he was. The blur of blond as the guy fell into the other students didn't phase him: Vera was standing still, and there was no sight of Pearl _or _Trucy!

"Hey, Vera!" He called, when he was just a couple of metres away. Her eyes, which had been focused firmly on the ground, peeked up. He thought he saw a blush start to colour her cheeks- _cute!- _and tried to remember the calm smile he'd had to use last time he'd seen his grandparents- the one that didn't scare people.

"W-Wocky, hi...," she was whispering so quietly that he had to lean in close to hear her, which in turn made her lean back into the wall. Not a good image for any walking past, so he took a quick step backwards. Wouldn't do for her friends to think he was bullying her or anything.

"I ain't seen you for ages, Vera! What you been up to?" Vera stared at him with those huge eyes of hers, mouth set in a thin line as she stared at him. It was, in a word, un-nerving. But he was Wocky- the _original _Gangsta, and no chick (no matter how sweet) was gonna freak him out. So he stared back.

"C-classes...and things... you?" _An answer! _He grinned widely, and leant back further, placing both hands behind his head casually.

"Aw, not much. Keepin' it real, you dig?" By her expression, he was guessing she didn't, but like hell he was gonna explain himself. Only _losers _did that. Besides, it would add to his mystery.

"Um," Vera began, letting her gaze drop to the ground again as she thought of _something _to say, "How... how is your art project going?" Wocky hesitated, trying to remember if that was a project he'd bothered to start. He decided the best course of action was to stick with something safe.

"It's goin' allright, but I'm not really into all this art crap." Vera cocked her head, and for the first time, Wocky thought he saw a glimmer of an emotion other than shyness.

_And I caused that! Man, this is totally going awesome. _

"Art is my..favourite subject...,"

_Okay, maybe not that awesome. _

"Hey, Wocky!" He twitched. That voice belonged to a person who he kinda didn't want to see right after he'd embarrassed himself. Trucy Justice appeared in front of him, her hands on her hips. "You bothering Vera again?"

"Hey, lay off, we were just chatting!"

"Sure you were," _and that voice belongs to Pearl. Great. _

"Man, you girls need to stop getting up in my face like this, you dig?"

"It's...,"

"Don't worry Vera!" Trucy linked her arm through that of his sweetie, and steered her out of the way, "_Maybe, _when you stop being a freak-" he opened his mouth to argue _viciously _against that accusation, "-we'll come talk to you, okay?"

"Bye Wocky!" Cody popped up beside him, after eventually finding his way back through the crowds to where his friend was.

"Dude... didn't go so well?"

Wocky elbowed him again and stalked off, wondering if it his dad would be cool with takin' out a hit on some 16 year old girls.

* * *

The bell at the end of the day was a welcome relief to Iris. All day she had been subject to whispered conversations between her sister and Kristoph, throughout the break, lunch and any time in between. And, after the news earlier in the day that both Dahlia and Kristoph had received parts in the school play, Kristoph's ego was almost through the roof. Iris didn't quite have the guts to snap at him, "_Your brother got a bigger part than you!", _but she wished she did. Afterwards, Dahlia had been nothing but complimentary towards Kristoph, her 'new best friend', and it wasn't until they were out of school and walking home that Dahlia let her true colours shine through.

"Honestly, I can't believe he thought he would beat Marshall," She muttered to her twin as they walked through the park together, her books clutched tightly to her chest, "He has little to no talent, and his personality? He does not strike me as that of a revolutionary student so much as a _layabout._"

"Is your vendetta worth all this aggravation?" Dahlia flicked her hand carelessly, as if to say that her aggravation was constant anyway, whether she was talking to the person in question or not.

"As much as I dislike him, I dislike _Phoenix _and his little friends far more. Miles, Neil-" Iris felt a lump appear in her stomach at the mention of Neil's name; she hadn't exactly _told _her sister that she'd met with Neil in town, "-all of them. They are an annoyance I will _not _tolerate."

"Dahlia...," Iris knew the story of her sister and Phoenix, of their year long relationship (which Dahlia had been using to gain influence, gifts and status), and of the way Phoenix had ended it last Christmas out of the blue. Since then he had changed completely, from besotted teenager into a far more laid back young man, content to let things go their own pace. Dahlia said Phoenix's reasons had been simply that 'they no longer connected', but that was no answer to her.

"Don't patronise me, _Iris_," Dahlia snapped, "My main point is that Kristoph, despite being an egotistical buffoon, is both useful and angry. And he already feuds with Phoenix publicly- why, I hardly need to steer him at all." Iris watched her sister rant quietly. She was the only person who knew this side of Dahlia. Even Phoenix still thought of her as nice, sweet, those stupid things that weren't_ true _and yet everyone believed them. She secretly hoped this whole thing with Kristoph would backfire, just to see what would happen when Dahlia was in the wrong. Her twin's voice drew her suddenly back to the present, and she twisted her head briefly.

"What?"

"Honestly, aren't you listening? I said _look," _Dahlia pointed to the path running alongside theirs a little ways down a slope, "I didn't know Marshall stayed on this side of the park."

"He doesn't, but his older brother does," Iris replied automatically, not realising what she'd said until Dahlia shot a sharp glance in her direction.

"And how on earth would you know that?" Her mouth was twisted into a frown and Iris glanced away nervously, mentally slapping herself for letting her mouth run ahead of her.

"While you were at the café with Kristoph, I ran into him in town. We got chatting, is all." But she knew that if anyone could see through to her nerves, it would be Dahlia.

"You didn't tell me that had happened, Iris. Are we keeping secrets, now?" And before Iris could stop her, she had turned and called out in her best sweet, 'Iris' voice: "Neil!" She watched, heart thumping painfully against her chest as Neil turned towards them, spotted Iris and Dahlia, and smiled. A quick pinch on the arm from Dahlia made Iris raise her hand in a reluctant wave, and despite her prayers to the contrary, he began to make his way over.

"Dahlia-"

"We've _never _kept secrets before, Iris," Dahlia sounded almost hurt, "Not even little ones."

"This isn't a secret, not rea- Hi Neil!" She plastered a smile onto her face as Neil arrived, his own grin genuine.

"Hey Iris; Dahlia."

"Oh Neil, it's been _far _too long since we last spoke to each other, and Iris and I were _just _talking about you! A little birdie told me they saw you two out this weekend!" It was frightening how easily Dahlia lied, and Iris found herself wondering if Dahlia really _had _known, but had chosen not to say anything to see what Iris would do."I only wish I could have been there to say hello!"

"Well, it was nothing, really, we just went for coffee-,"

"_Nothing? _Oh, don't say that!" Dahlia sent an adoring glance in Iris's direction before leaning upwards towards Neil conspiratorially and whispering something in his ear. No matter how hard she tried, Iris couldn't hear what was said, but she could _see, _and that was probably worse. Neil's expression flickered between confused and flattered in the space of a few seconds, and just as Iris was about to step in, Dahlia pulled away with a gracious smile. "Now, Iris, I have to run and start a little bit of homework, so I'll see you at home later, okay?" She embraced her sister in a deep hug and hissed "_Don't you ever keep things from me again." _under her breath

"Wh-Dahlia, wai- Come back-!" But Dahlia had disappeared down another path through the trees, leaving Iris to stare, utterly embarrassed, at Neil. At least he seemed to feeling similarly. She let her gaze drop to the ground where there were some particularly interesting pebbles.

"The whole time I've been standing here, you've looked about ready to run away," She didn't look up, but the note of amusement in Neil's voice brought a little smile to her face.

"Well, I hadn't exactly-"

"I know," Neil bent down to look at her from underneath, that familiar cheeky grin upon his face, "You didn't tell your sister we'd run into each other the other day. Not _that_ big a deal."

"It's different with Dahlia and me," Iris tried to explain, "We've never kept _anything _from each other."

"She said that to me as well. _Still_ doesn't strike me as that big a deal, but I suppose I should find out what makes meeting me different." He caught her gaze and stood up straight once more, pleased when she followed suit and looked at him rather than the pathway.

"W-well," this was frustrating Iris for the simple reason that she hadn't even _had _a proper reason for keeping this from her sister, other than Dahlia's dislike for Neil. And then there was the fact that Neil, being a friend of Phoenix and Miles, was not high upon Dahlia's like list, thus the likelihood she would sabotage this whole thing later on was extremely high. But Neil was smiling at her so hopefully, and the consequences seemed less important the longer she gazed at him. "I, um.. No reason." She settled on finally, knowing that this answer was disappointing and not really what he'd wanted to hear.

"Well, I suppose we'll just have to keep our coffee meetings extra secret from now on; make sure none of Dahlia's 'little birdies' are watching?" Iris flushed.

"We've only been once!"

"By the time you see Dahlia again, it'll have been twice." He raised a single eyebrow, a look so comical she couldn't help but giggle, and offered her an arm. "Shall we?" And despite her mind muttering darkly how bad of an idea this was, dragging him into the whirlpool of drama that was living with Dahlia, she took it.

* * *

"I can't believe it, I can't believe it, oh my God, Nick, I'm _Javert!" _

So Miles had been saying to his best friend Phoenix Wright for the last 6 and three quarter hours. God knows he'd shouted louder than this before, and he'd probably gripped Phoenix's arm in a stronger vice-grasp too, but he'd never done both _at the same time _and it was starting to break through even Phoenix's calm demeanour

"Miles-"

"I mean, it's practically the biggest part in the whole show, and I _know _my father will be totally annoyed because he's an English teacher and has read the book and he has _such _high expectations-"

"No he doesn't, Mi-

"-but I am _so happy, _and I can't believe they think I'm talented enough for this! Really, this is going to require so much work, and it's going to be such a challenge, but I think I'm good enough for this, don't yo-"

"Miles!" Blessed silence as Miles tried to process the fact that Phoenix had just _shouted _at him for the first time in probably 4 months. "My ears are ringing. You are seriously over-excited about this."

"You wouldn't _understand_-"

"If anyone knows when you're overexcited, it's me." Phoenix smirked mischievously at Miles, who glared back in a look he'd clearly inherited from his father, _not _that Phoenix was stupid enough to mention that. "And Mr E is going to be cool with this, you know- don't pout like that." Of course saying that wouldn't stop him, and Phoenix predicted he'd have a sullen Miles on his hands for at least the next ten minutes.

"You could at least be happy for me...,"

"I was happy for you for the first hour, cheerful for you for the second, pleased for the third, tired of you by the fourth, asleep for most of the fifth and wishing I was asleep for the sixth!"

"You're horrible." Phoenix thought he saw a lip wibble and sighed, throwing an arm over Miles's shoulder and refusing to let him dislodge it.

"Who came with you to the audition...?"

"...You."

"_Who _walked you home _after _the audition?"

"....You."

"And _who _is going to take you for one of those silly.... frackachino? Frappspresso? things just now?" Miles perked up predictably, and turned with a slight smile to Phoenix.

"You?"

"Yeah. Now stop with the whining." He unhooked his arm from around Miles and stuffed both hands into the pocket of his hoodie, tired out after all that talking. Miles talked enough for the both of them, usually. Phoenix only got involved when it got too loud.

"It _is _exciting, though. I get two solo songs- besides Neil I have the largest part in the entire show!"

"Mm?" This was Phoenix's usual reply. Minimal effort was required to hum a noise, the only thing he had to worry about was the inflection.

"It does mean you won't be able to come over to mine as often after school, though, because I'll be busy _rehearsing." _

"Don't worry about it," Phoenix gave him a mellow grin, "Maya just got a job at the Burger shop round the corner from school, if I hang out there you can visit during the breaks in rehearsal." In truth, Phoenix would have been quite happy just to go back to his house (or a nearby quiet spot) and sleep, but then Miles would have probably pouted again and he couldn't be doing with that.

They arrived at the coffee house a few minutes later, slipping quietly into their favourite booth by the entrance, the prime place for people watching. Miles abandoned his school bag with Phoenix and went to the till, knowing from experience that Phoenix now wouldn't move from his seat for the next hour and a half at the very least, _possibly_ less if there was some sort of emergency.

"Viola's on today," he said when he appeared again with a tray, "I bought her new 'special blend' coffee for you to try." Phoenix stared at the cup sitting innocently on the tray, next to whatever that Pink and white cream _thing _Miles liked was called.

"Thank you, I think." He budged over a little to let Miles sit down, because of course he wouldn't go and sit on the other side of the booth when he could bother Phoenix with affection, although it was surprising he'd do it in such a public place as this. "People might see us, you know."

"Yeah," Miles made no motion to move away, and Phoenix smiled lightly. "Basically everyone knows, anyway."

"Couldn't keep quiet on your Myface, huh?"

"_Myspace, _Phoenix." But he didn't deny the main accusation, which made his friend laugh.

"Well, that's been 4 months. I'm impressed you didn't crack before now." Miles looked up at him accusingly, half way through a sip of his drink. The look would have worked if it wasn't for his new grand hairstyle that kept falling in his eyes. "Don't give me that look, Miles." The drink was placed carefully back on the table before Phoenix was dignified with an answer.

"We never said we were going to keep it a secret, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Phoenix rested his head against the back of the booth seat, so the hood of his jumper obscured his vision. Blindly he sought out Miles's head and, upon finding it, ruffled his hair vigorously, "It's fun to tease you, though." And despite his carefully crafted eternally-tormented teenage persona, Miles couldn't help but laugh.

"Well, after we mentioned it to Maya, I figured that it didn't matter who else knew..." Phoenix nodded, safe in the knowledge that Miles would be looking at him as he nearly always was.

"We knew Maya'd be fine with it though. She's been forcing us together for the last year, ever since Dahlia." He felt Miles tense at the mention of his ex-girlfriend and rolled his eyes, continuing in a vaguely teasing voice, "Who I'm still _totally _in love with, which is why I'm letting you cling to my side...,"

Before Miles could answer, the bell above the door jingled, causing both Phoenix and Miles to sit up curiously. Never let it be said that they were anything but nosy. On their own the two people would have been nothing out of the ordinary, but together Neil and Iris built a most confusing picture. Miles elbowed Phoenix unnecessarily a few times, unsubtle in his attempts to get his partner's attention.

"Did you know about _them, _Nick?"

"What 'them'? They're just out for coffee, like us." Miles gave him a disdainful look.

"If they're 'like us', then that rather supports my original point, don't you think?"

"Granted. Still, Maya and Ema and Regina always do that arm-linking thing. Doesn't mean _they're _all going out." The look he got for that one was so full of disgusted pity that Phoenix couldn't help but laugh, much to Miles confusion.

"_You_ are ridiculous."

"And you, Miles, are a Hypocrite."

* * *

CHAPTER FIVE DONE. Wooo, I am happy. This chapter was a lot of fun to write. Coming up next time: Drama, drama, more drama and Gant.

You better be excited.

Translations:

"Du verarschst mich d(och)"- You're kidding me!

"So ist's recht!"- That's the spirit!

"Heute siehst du echt keimig aus."- You look really rough today/You look like shit today. ;D Oh Klavier, picking on Daryan who knows no German.

For those of you unfamiliar with Les Miserables, the best place to find out more is Youtube and the show's official website. It's also my favourite musical, so I might be able to answer any questions. :D Also, I was thinking about maybe starting a comm here on to chat about some of the stuff in this fic (since there is a ton of backstory that would be cool to talk about xD), if anyone would be interested in that? Let me know.

See you next chapter!

-Nickel


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